What If?
by Sheytune
Summary: A series of one-shots. Some AU, some cannon. Playing with the possibilities of what could happen.
1. The Book

**Note: **OK, here's the deal. One-shots, some cannon, some AU. My hope is that this will result in me finishing some of the half-finished stories moldering on my hard drive, but if that doesn't happen, that's fine. Here's the first one.

**What if?** Brennan let Booth read one of her books before it was published.

**AU?** No

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He could hear her rattling around in their bedroom as he cooked. He'd lived alone for years – with the exception of the nights when he was lucky enough to have Parker – and he fully appreciated the wonders of having someone to share his life with.

He _also_ appreciated the joys of having the house to himself on occasion, and he was looking forward to spending the day alone while Bones and Christine were at the zoo with Angela and Michael.

The toaster binged and he tossed the toast onto the plate, yelling, "Breakfast's on!" Almost immediately, he heard the thundering footsteps of his daughter running down the stairs, accompanied by Brennan yelling, "_Walk_, Christine!"

Christine slid into her chair and smiled at him, thrilled at the smiley face he'd made out of bacon and eggs. "Thanks, Daddy." She glanced at the stairs and, satisfied her mother was still upstairs, whispered, "Mommy doesn't think it tastes better when it's a smiley face, but I do."

He yelled up the stairs, "Bones? Breakfast's getting cold", then sat down at his place so that he and Christine could say grace. As they ate, he listened as Christine told him all about the animals she expected to see on their trip.

He was almost done before Brennan came downstairs. She set a stack of papers face down on the table and picked up her cutlery.

Booth waited somewhat impatiently for her to look up, then nodded to the papers. "Please tell me you're not bringing work with you to the zoo."

Brennan shook her head. "That's for you." She took another bite of her eggs, smiling slightly at the confusion on his face.

He picked up the stack of papers and turned it over. When he saw the title, his eyes shot back to her.

"Your new book."

She shrugged. "You always say you want to read them before they're published." She turned her attention back to her food, suddenly self-conscious.

He pushed his chair back and walked around the table, leaning down to kiss her. "Thank you, Bones."

**BbB**

Booth plopped down on the couch before Brennan's Prius was off the driveway. He set a glass of water on the coffee table, lay back, and started to read.

He'd read her other books – usually as soon as they came out – but he was honored that she trusted him to read the book before it was published. (It was about time. She'd let that cult guy read her books after they'd been together a couple of months. He'd been her partner for _years_.)

The book started – as they all did – with the discovery of a body, this one hacked to pieces and spread between three separate garbage dumps. It was a fascinating case, and before long he was lost in the story.

**BbB**

Brennan and Christine got home later than expected, exhausted from a long day outdoors. They rushed through dinner and the bed time routine, and soon Christine was bundled off to bed. She fell asleep quickly, and her parents retreated to the couch. Brennan relaxed back into the comfortable cushions, closing her eyes and lifting her aching feet into Booth's lap. Booth absentmindedly rubbed her feet as he pondered how to bring up the subject on his mind.

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Booth broke the silence. "I read your book."

Her eyes snapped open and her panicked gaze met his calm eyes. "Oh."

He nodded. "I didn't expect that ending."

She pulled away and sat up. "It seemed appropriate for the characters." He waited, and she continued, "They've been together for a while. They trust each other, and they love each other. It was time for them to … take the next step."

"Marriage." His voice was quiet.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling too small. "Yes", she finally managed to choke out.

"Kathy and Andy are getting married", Booth confirmed. He turned his attention back to her feet.

She slowly relaxed back onto the cushions. A few minutes later, he pulled his hands from her feet and turned to her. "I have to wonder, Bones."

Her breath caught, and she forced herself to breathe evenly as he continued, "Andy and Kathy … you always say they aren't us."

"They aren't", she confirmed, and he winced, then nodded as if she'd confirmed something he already knew. "But there are similarities."

At her words, his head whipped around so that he could meet his eyes. "I need you to spell it out for me, Bones."

"You know I don't view marriage the same way you do", she replied. "I probably never will."

"I know", he answered.

"But ..."

"But?", he asked.

"But we are fully committed to each other."

"Yes", he affirmed.

"I don't anticipate that that will change."

"Me either", he replied quietly.

"And we share a child."

"We do", he agreed.

"There are financial and legal benefits to marriage", she explained, realizing as she did that she was babbling.

"Right."

"I think we should get married", she finally blurted out.

His hands dropped to his sides and he focused all of his attention on reading the expression on her face. "You think we _should_, or you want to?"

She took a deep breath and answered, "I want to."

His face broke into a joyful smile. "Me too, Bones." He pulled her into his lap and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. "Let's do it."

She smiled back, surprised at how happy she was at the thought of having something she'd never wanted. "Let's get married", she agreed.

He rested his forehead on hers. "I thought you'd never ask."

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I'm definitely open to suggestions – let me know what you'd like to read.


	2. Grief and Joy

**Note:** Thanks for the suggestions and comments on the last chapter. This one is not nearly as happy, and contains character death (as should be obvious from the prompt below), so be warned (or skip it and wait for the next one.)

**What if:** Booth didn't survive the brain surgery?

**AU? **Yes

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Rationally, her being in the operating room made no sense. She wasn't a medical doctor, and even if she had been, neurosurgery was a demanding discipline with extremely specialized knowledge.

But for once, she didn't care whether it made rational sense. She had to be there, as if holding his hand while the saw cut into his skull could make it all work out the way she wanted – needed – it to.

And it worked – the surgery went smoothly, and she heaved a metaphorical sigh of relief when he was wheeled back into the recovery room. Sometimes, even years later, she wondered what her life would have been like if he'd woken up on schedule, three hours later.

Except he didn't wake up. Instead, he reacted poorly to the anesthetic and ended up in a coma. Three days later he died, the victim of a massive stroke.

Four days after that, she sat in the third pew of an unfamiliar church listening to an elderly priest talk about God's mercy and love, wishing she could believe in the unlikely possibility of a life after death. Parker and Rebecca sat in the front pew, along with Jared and an elderly man she'd never met.

Cam sat with Cullen, a man she thought might be Cullen's boss, and Sweets in the second pew. She'd been invited to join them, but she'd hung back, maneuvering herself into the aisle spot on the third row. She wasn't sure she could would be able to sit through through the entire funeral without crying, and she wasn't going to break down in front of all of these people.

Somehow, she made it through the service, and Angela herded her down into the church basement, where people were huddled around tables, eating cold sandwiches and a variety of sweets.

She wasn't even a little bit hungry, so she stood at the side of the room, watching Cam talk with Jared and the man she assumed was Booth's grandfather. Cam caught her eye and beckoned her over, but she shook her head. She was still angry with Jared for trying to convince Booth to run off to India, and the last thing she wanted to do was make polite small talk.

In fact, there was no reason for her to stay. Booth wasn't there.

Booth wasn't anywhere.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked through the front door of her apartment. She texted Angela – a quick "Went home. I'm fine, Ange.", then turned off her phone. Sinking into the couch, Brennan stared at the ceiling and, for the first time in years, did nothing at all.

The next morning, she got up and went to work, throwing herself into her job with all the energy she could muster. When the work day was done, she came home and stared at the ceiling for hours, falling asleep well past two. She repeated that routine for thirty-two days straight, until one morning she woke with Booth's last words to her ringing in her ears. That was the day she booked an appointment with the fertility specialist.

**BbB**

When she found out she was pregnant, she cried. It could have been hormones, or the realization that her life had changed forever, or it could have been the simple fact that she couldn't share the news with Booth. She hadn't asked him to be a father, but she knew that he would have been delighted for her, regardless of the unconventional path she'd chosen.

Of course, if he'd lived, she wouldn't have been pregnant.

She didn't share the news with the Jeffersonian team for three months – not even Angela. It was too precious, too fragile to share, and a part of her was irrationally afraid that saying it out loud would make something go wrong. She was surprised at how surprised her friends were, particularly since they had previous knowledge that she had planned to have a child with Booth. Cam looked … well, she looked both horrified and delighted. Angela just looked worried. Hodgins was the only one who took the news in stride, as if it were not at all out of the ordinary.

Still, with the exception of more frequent doctor's appointments and unusual fatigue, life returned to a semblance of normal – or at least what passed for normal before Booth came into her life. She worked, she wrote, she occasionally got together socially with Angela. If anything, she was busier than before, scared that if she stopped, the weight of her loss would crush her.

When she was six months pregnant, Cam hovered nervously near the door of her office and asked, "Have you told Jared?"

She hadn't, of course – it hadn't even occurred to her that Jared would need to know. It wasn't just Jared, either – Parker would soon have a sibling and, if Booth's grandfather was anything like Booth, he'd want to know as well.

Her child would be part of a family.

**BbB**

She gave birth on a cold February morning, Angela at her side. Her daughter was beautiful, even when she was red-faced and screaming in annoyance.

The first weeks were hard. She had hired a very competent nanny, of course, but that still left her alone with the baby at night and on the weekend. Since she wasn't working, she found she was lacking both adult companionship and intellectual stimulation, but she was so tired that the thought of going back to work was overwhelming.

Max came by a couple of times, but he was hardly reliable. Angela came by a few times a week, but she had work and a social life of her own.

In many cultures, it was common for the child's grandmothers or aunts to help out in the first weeks after birth, but the closest thing she had was Amy, who was busy with her own children. She was on her own.

Then again, she'd been on her own for years.

Somehow, she stumbled through the first few weeks. The nanny helped her establish a routine, which helped a little, and the baby started sleeping for longer periods of time – which meant that _she_ could sleep longer as well. She was still tired and sleep-deprived, but normal daily activities became a little easier.

The day before she was scheduled to go back to work, she gave the nanny the morning off. She bundled the baby up and programmed her destination into her GPS.

She had no trouble finding the cemetery, despite never having been there before, and soon she was carrying her daughter through the quiet paths. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the grass was damp from an early morning shower.

When she reached Booth's grave, squatted down to trace the familiar letters of his name on the newly-placed headstone, then stood and rocked the baby back and forth. After a few moments in silence, she scanned the area to see if anyone was watching, then began to talk.

"I promised I'd visit you, Booth. You know I believe that all that's left of you is your bones … and some flesh, I would imagine. But I promised. And I thought … if I'm wrong and you can hear what I'm saying … I thought you'd want to meet your daughter." Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath, choking back the tears. "She's six weeks old today, and I'll always be sorry that you didn't get to meet her, but … thank you, Booth. Thank you for giving me your child." She shifted the baby in her arms and stood there for a few more moments, remembering countless shared meals and late nights doing paperwork, then she quietly said, "We'll be back." She wiped a tear from her eye and walked away.

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Let me know what you think. And I'm still open to suggestions, if you want to play along.


	3. Joy and Sorrow

**Note:** Usually, I write a one-shot and someone says "Oh, please continue", and … I don't. This time no one asked, so here's a sequel to Grief & Joy. I'm inconsistent that way. So to recap, Booth died after his brain surgery. If you don't want sad, please come back next weekend, when I will hopefully have a chapter in which no one dies.

**What if:** Booth's grown-up daughter visited his grave?

**AU?** Yes

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The gravel path crunched under the young woman's sneakers as she made her way through the cemetery. She settled herself cross-legged on the ground at the foot of the grave and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees.

The wind rustled through the leaves as she started to talk. "I'm getting married, Dad." She laughed. "I was a little worried about telling Mom – you know how she is about marriage being an outdated institution – but she just smiled a little and said, 'Your father would be so happy', so I wanted to come tell you myself."

She picked up a blade of grass, and twisted it around her finger. "He's a good man, Dad. Cam says he reminds her of you, a little, which is a huge compliment coming from her. She misses you, you know. So does Mom."

She tossed the grass aside and looked at the headstone, weathered gray surrounded by vibrant bunches of daffodils. "So do I, which is silly because I never actually knew you. All I've ever had was stories. Mom, Uncle Jared, Parker, Cam, Angela - everyone has stories about you. They're good stories, but I still would rather have known you for myself."

She sat quietly for a few minutes, then continued. "Yesterday, Mom told me … she said that you'd agreed to father her child, but that you weren't going to be my father. She almost tripped over her own words saying that you changed your mind, that you wanted to be my dad, but … well, you're dead, and you can't speak for yourself. I hope that's truth. I hope you'd be proud of me."

She stood and brushed the grass from her pants. "And Dad? I wish you could be here to dance at my wedding."

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I'd love to hear what you think, even if it's just that I need to write something happy.


	4. Moving On

**Note:** As promised, this one's happier. Well, at least no one dies.

**What if:** Brennan had moved on after the Doctor in the Photo?

**AU?** Yes

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"So", Angela says, leaning against the door jam of Brennan's office, "It's been far too long since we had a girl's night."

Brennan swivels her desk chair to face her friend, abandoning the report she was working on. "The kind of girl's night where you drag me to get my toenails painted, or the kind of girl's night where you get intoxicated and dance inappropriately with strange men?"

Angela smiles ruefully. "The second one."

"That would be inadvisable, as you are currently pregnant."

"True", Angela agrees, "But I wouldn't be drinking. Come on, wouldn't it be nice to go out, dance, have some fun?"

Brennan's not so sure. Yes, she sometimes enjoys the loud music, the strong beats, but it's been years since she's participated in that kind of night, and a part of her is afraid she'd stand on the side of the dance floor, wishing she were at home.

On the other hand, it has been a long time since she's done anything with Angela, and she did decide weeks ago that it was time to stop pulling away from her friends.

"OK", she agrees, making an effort to smile.

Years of experience have taught Angela that it's better not to give Brennan too much time to reconsider, so she immediately replies, "Great! Tomorrow night, you and I are painting the town red."

"Oh." Brennan's voice is flat, almost toneless.

Angela puts her hands on her hips, and mock-glares at her friend. "You're not backing out on me, are you?"

"I am, actually", Brennan answers. "I have a date tomorrow."

**BbB**

Alcohol and a room packed full of strangers gyrating to loud music is replaced by brunch and girl talk – which in this case means Angela asking question after question about Brennan's date.

There's not much to tell.

His name is Derek, and he's a new member of the Jeffersonian Paleontology department. They met in the cafeteria, and struck up a conversation while waiting in line for the salad bar.

He's absolutely the type she used to go for – smart, lean, confident in his own abilities. She isn't really sure that dating him is a good idea, but being open to new intimate relationships is something else she decided to try in the aftermath of her sobbing breakdown in Booth's car.

And let's be honest, it's been far too long since she's had sex.

So she says yes. Worst case scenario, she'll fake an urgent call from work.

Angela is excited – something about living vicariously through her – and insists on coming over to rummage through her closet. It's completely unnecessary – Brennan has been dressing herself for years, and she's more than capable of doing so again tonight – but Angela insists, and Brennan finds it nice to have a hint of their old friendship back. She goes along with it, even when it means trying on outfit after outfit after outfit.

She draws the line at letting Angela do her makeup and hair and shoos her friend home at 4:30. She's not meeting Derek until 7, and she needs time to get ready both physically and mentally. At six thirty, she leaves for the restaurant, still not certain that this is a good idea.

She's wrong. He's a good man, and she has a good time.

**BbB**

Three weeks – and six dates, if you don't count the three times they meet for lunch in the cafeteria – later, they have sex. Uncharacteristically, Brennan is the one who wants to take it slow. Her brain is fast, but she's still struggling to adjust.

But she likes him, and she likes having someone who wants to spend time with her, and one night she decides she's tired of waiting.

It's good. Not the magic that Booth once told her is out there, but satisfying, enjoyable sex. It's the right decision.

They go on from there, and eventually she realizes she's happy. Not the exuberant, joyous happiness she felt when she saw Booth at the reflecting pool, but solid, steady contentment.

She'll take it.

Booth doesn't find out for weeks. They don't talk much about their personal lives these days, preferring to stick to case-related topics, and although she considers mentioning that she's seeing someone in the hopes that it will help propel them back onto the solid ground of "just partners", she's not sure of the etiquette of the situation. She says nothing.

Hannah knows – after all, she and Brennan like to tell themselves that they're friends – but she doesn't want to bring it up.

And then one morning, Brennan's cell phone rings at quarter to five, and she's faced with the realization that she has a case and her car is sitting in the parking spot at her apartment, five miles away. She cringes and asks him to pick her up, even though she's been taking her own car to crime scenes for months.

He doesn't ask why she's not at home. Well, he doesn't ask _her. _He knows her colleagues and her interns, and with a casual comment here, an innocent-sounding question there, he gets the picture.

He tells himself he's happy for her and tries to ignore how unsettled the thought of her being happy with someone else makes him.

Three days later, he goes out drinking with Sweets and decides it's time to take the next step with Hannah. He buys a ring and tells himself that this time it'll be different, this time he'll get what he wants.

He's wrong.

(One day he will get the family he longs for, but not now, not with Hannah.)

He finds himself at the Founding Fathers. A couple of years ago, he could be sure he'd run into one of the squints there, but he figures it's safe now. The team that was once so cohesive has scattered, busy with lives that no longer intersect like they once did.

Seven drinks later, he's drunk and melancholy and bitter and glad that no one knows he's there.

Naturally, that's when someone he knows walks in.

It's not Brennan – she and Derek are away for the weekend. She considers it an experiment, a test to see whether they are truly compatible, and in the interest of focusing on her relationship, she's turned off her cell phone. She doesn't know Hannah has left her a message, and probably wouldn't know what to do if she listened to the message.

No, it's not Brennan.

It's Cam, stopping in for a late night drink after going to a play with Sam. (She hasn't given up on Paul, exactly, but they've been kind of seeing each other for a couple of years now, and she's still second place to his job, and it's not like they've ever been really serious.)

She just wants to have a drink and talk and flirt and wonder what it would be like if she took Sam home.

Stopping a friend from drinking himself to death is not on her to-do list, but she's a good person, so she apologizes to her date and slides onto the bar stool next to Booth.

He's not happy to have a living, breathing reminder of the way his humiliation will fly through the Jeffersonian grapevine. In fact, he'd be quite happy if she'd just leave him and go back to her date – a point he makes so forcefully that he ends up sloshing half a glass of scotch onto the bar.

In response, she pries the glass out of his hand, slides off her stool, and holds out her hand. "Come on, Seeley, it's time to go home."

They're at the door before he manages, "Don't call me Seeley, Camille."

**BbB**

You really can't die from a broken heart, especially if it turns out to actually be wounded pride, so life goes on. Brennan gets back from her weekend away, listens to her voicemail and, during the next case, awkwardly says, "I'm sorry you and Hannah broke up."

Booth grunts in reply, making it very clear he doesn't want to discuss it, and she turn her attention back to the bones, which always make sense if you pay attention.

After his one night of indulgence, Booth stops drinking. No going to the bar, no beer during the game, no scotch after a hard case. It's not forever, but he's afraid that if he starts drinking now, he'll never stop, and Parker deserves a father who's not a drunk.

And then it's Valentine's Day, the stupidest, most made-up holiday of them all, a day named after a saint who may not have existed, a holiday created so couples could rub the noses of their single friends in their happiness.

Yes, he's still bitter.

Cam wants to wrap up the case so that it doesn't interfere in her plans. Hodgins spends the day trying to figure out the perfect gift for Angela. And Bones … Bones says "Quality forensic work takes time, and the remains will still be here tomorrow."

Man, he hates that doofus she's dating.

He spends the night at the shooting range, pretending the paper target is …. Well, let's just say he's still hurt and angry and leave it at that. Brennan goes for dinner and invites Derek back to her place. They're making their way to the bedroom when she suddenly wonders what Booth is doing.

It's very unfortunate timing, and she pushes the thought away and forces herself back to the moment. Later that night, when Derek is asleep and she's still wide awake, she wonders again. She doesn't like the idea of Booth, who has always believed in love, spending Valentine's Day alone mere weeks after being rejected by someone he loved.

After far too little sleep, she crawls out of bed, writes a note to Derek explaining she had to go to work, and rushes out the door. She picks up two coffees and shows up at Booth's door just as he's about to leave for the day.

She thrusts the coffee towards him, uncomfortably babbling about how February 14 recognizes romantic love and that friendship – partnership, in fact – deserves to be recognized as well. He looks … well, baffled, really, but he takes the coffee and they walk down the stairs together.

They don't drive together – he's off to the FBI, she's going to the Jeffersonian – but she offers him a tentative little smile before she climbs behind the wheel.

He smiles back, for what feels like the first time in years, and walks to his vehicle, just a little more hopeful than he'd been the day before.

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I'd love to hear what you think.


	5. Keep On Trying

**Note: **The weekend kind of got away on me, so this is a little later than I would have liked.

**What if:** Brennan had said yes in the Parts in the Sum of the Whole?

**AU?** Yes

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She was used to relying on herself, used to trusting that her brain would evaluate her options and choose the best one.

Booth didn't make decisions like she did – he prided himself on "going with his gut", as though his digestive tract could provide better guidance than his brain. Despite his unscientific decision-making process, he was successful and happy, with a demanding job and hobbies he enjoyed. He had a son, friends and people who loved him.

He may not have been as intelligent as she was, but in all other respects, he lived a much fuller life.

As ridiculous as the idea of basing choices on intuition instead of facts was, it was Booth's way of doing things. She trusted Booth, so when he asked her to give them a shot, move from their comfortable but limited partnership into a full relationship, she said ignored all the reasons it was a bad idea and said yes.

She'd never seen him look that happy.

That night, they moved from being partners to being more. It was good – they'd both known that they'd be sexually compatible – and the first few weeks flew by in a blur of sex and bickering, take out food and debates late into the night. They went to her high school reunion, and Brennan noticed the girls who'd tormented her in high school sending admiring glances Booth's way. She was a world-renowned forensic anthropologist and a best-selling novelist, but she still found it extremely satisfying to know that they were jealous that she had Booth.

They returned to D.C., and continued splitting their time between work and home, his place and her place. She went to his hockey games, and he picked her up for a late supper after karate. They spent Friday nights watching movies on the couch and Sunday afternoons in bed. After their first Saturday afternoon video game session with Parker, Brennan stayed up late every night for a week practicing her video game skills, vowing that she'd win the next time.

They remained professional at work – it was important to both of them to keep their personal relationship from influencing their professional partnership – but their friends quickly noticed that something had changed.

That was fine – neither of them was ashamed of their relationship.

The weeks marched on, and the newness began to wear off. In other circumstances, they'd still be getting to know each other, but they already knew each other's stories and idiosyncrasies. Instead of being happy to see each other, they started to remember all the reasons they'd kept their distance for so long. She needed a schedule, a routine, while he was inclined towards spontaneity, ready to drop everything on a whim. He needed social interaction, while she was happy to spend her weekend in solitude, working on a paper or her latest novel. She'd spent her life learning to be alone, he'd spent his searching for someone to spend his life with.

It might have been better if they'd been able to talk it out, maybe even have it all come to a head in a drop-down fight, but that didn't come naturally after years of avoiding talking about how they felt. Instead, she started to work late in a transparent attempt to avoid the conversation they needed to have. He started spending more of his free time on other activities, volunteering to coach Parker's little league team and joining another hockey league.

By the time Brennan was asked to join a dig in the Maluku Islands and the army started trying to convince Booth to o to Afghanistan to train snipers, their relationship was past saving. They packed their bags and said exchanged contact information, both of them knowing they'd never use it.

Before they left, he said, "A year from today, at the coffee cart."

She nodded. "I know", she agreed. "One year from today."

They shook hands, as if they had never been more than partners, and climbed onto their separate flights, each of them as prepared as they could be for a year apart.

Neither of them knew that the fate she didn't believe in had other plans for them.

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I'd love to hear what you think. Also, please give me some happy ideas. :)


	6. Secret Identity

**Note:** Insert obligatory "Yes, I know I've lost my mind" disclaimer here.

**What if: **Brennan had a secret identity?

**AU?** Yes

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Brennan closed the apartment door and flipped the deadbolt shut. She hung her coat neatly in the closet and crouched to unzip her boots. Leaving them behind, she limped to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As the water heated, she pulled off her jeans and sweater, then peeled off the lycra outfit underneath. She dumped all of the dirty clothes in the hamper, then stepped into the steaming shower.

She'd be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it.

**BbB**

The waitress filled his coffee cup as Booth opened the newspaper. For the third time that month, the lead story was about D.C.'s new superhero, who the press had nicknamed "Ninja Girl".

Somehow, she seemed to know when someone was in trouble and show up in time to intervene. The latest story was about a mugging, which ended with the perpetrator tied up with red tape, suffering from two cracked ribs and a broken arm.

The DC police had worked with the victim to get a description, and the sketch artist's picture took up the upper half of the front page.

Booth scoffed and turned the page. At least that yahoo wasn't his problem.

**BbB**

"We're going to be late."

Hodgins grinned at Zach. "Come on, Zach, live a little. The world won't end if you're ten minutes late one day."

"Dr. Brennan won't like it."

"Tell her it's my fault", Hodgins suggested.

"It _is_ your fault."

"Then you won't even have to lie", Hodgins said. "Come on, help me get these soil samples and we'll be on our way."

**BbB**

"You're late, Zach." Brennan's disappointment was evident in her tone.

"It was Hodgins's fault", Zach explained.

Brennan's serious gaze settled on him. "You are responsible for being at work on time, regardless of Dr. Hodgins's inability to do so."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan", Zach answered, glaring at Hodgins.

"Come on, give the kid a break", Hodgins said. "I made him late. I wanted to stop by the scene of that mugging last night to get some samples."

"I was not aware that we were investigating a mugging", Brennan answered.

"We're not", Hodgins replied. "But if we could unmask Ninja Girl..."

"That's a terrible name."

Booth swiped his card in the badge reader and bounded up the steps. "What's a terrible name?"

"Ninja Girl", Brennan answered, her disgust at the moniker written on her face.

"Ugh", Booth replied. "Not you guys, too. The whole city seems to be talking about that vigilante."

"It's a great story", Hodgins answered. "Super hot ninja chick runs around kicking ass and stopping crime – what's not to love?"

"We have laws for a reason", Booth barked. "We have the constitution and due process and the right to a fair trial. No one should be able to take all of that away, not even if she's hot and runs around in tight clothes."

"Well, I'm going to unmask her", Hodgins said, "And then she'll stop running around making fools of the cops."

"Dr. Hodgins, we are not investigating this … 'Ninja Girl'", Brennan said. "And you do have work to do. I suggest you get started, given that you are already behind."

**BbB**

Brennan walked confidently through the lobby of her apartment building, careful to show no signs of injury. That had been a little too close, and she was afraid that she had seriously injured her ankle when she jumped into the alley.

She didn't let herself show any signs of pain until she was safely alone in her apartment. As soon as the door was locked behind her, she crumpled to the floor, moaning with the pain. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs, but eventually, she had no choice but to move. She gingerly pulled off her boots, noting that her injured ankle was already discoloured and swollen, then limped to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she made her way back to the couch, where she applied ice to her throbbing ankle.

She was reasonably sure that it wasn't broken. It was, however, badly sprained, and there wasn't much she could do except rest it and continue to apply ice. Ninja Girl was out of commission for at least a week.

**BbB**

Her cell phone rang at a quarter to five, and Brennan dragged her aching body out of bed. She wrapped her ankle in a bandage for support and dressed in jeans, a tank top, and her Jeffersonian jumpsuit. By the time Booth arrived to pick her up, she was standing in the vestibule of her apartment building, waiting impatiently.

It was a short drive to the crime scene, followed by hours of crouching, kneeling, and contorting herself into difficult positions to photograph the scene and retrieve the body. By the time she was finally done, she was stiff, sore, and tired.

She walked to the truck as carefully as possible, but she knew she was limping. Naturally, Booth's eagle eyes didn't miss a thing. "You OK, Bones?"

She turned and looked at him, too tired to reply.

"You're limping", he explained, gesturing at her feet.

"Oh", she said, trying to think of a plausible excuse. "I twisted my ankle yesterday. It's just a little sore."

"Put some ice on it when you get home", Booth advised. "It'll feel better in no time."

**BbB**

Booth pulled his cash from the ATM and put it in his wallet. He snagged his receipt from the machine and walked through the door into the evening air.

It was a beautiful night, and he whistled to himself as he walked to his vehicle. As he fumbled in his pocket for his keys, he heard a scream, which was abruptly cut short. Hand going to his weapon, he started to run.

He slowed when he reached the corner, hugging the wall and peering around the corner to see what he was about to walk into.

To his surprise, he saw a woman dressed in a tight black outfit complete with a bright red cape. At her feet lay an unconscious man. Another man was whimpering in pain, his hands and feet bound together with red tape. Another woman huddled against the wall, her arms around a young child.

Booth pulled his badge from his pocket and, gun in hand, stepped around the corner. "Freeze! FBI!"

The woman in black started to run, cape billowing out behind her. He followed, only to lose her when she bounded over a chain-link fence. Disgruntled, he returned to the scene and waited for the DC cops to arrive.

**BbB**

It took him three days to realize where he'd seen her before. It wasn't, as he'd thought, the picture in the paper that made her look so familiar. No, it was hours spent driving, days spent interviewing suspects, months of working together.

He was going to throttle her.

He'd worked with her long enough to need proof, though, so his first step was a good, old-fashioned stake-out. He spent three weeks tracking her movements – when she left home, when she returned – and comparing them with sightings of Ninja Girl.

They all matched.

The next time she returned home, late at night, he followed her up to her apartment, reaching her floor just as her door clicked shut. He jogged down the hall and knocked, calling "I know you're there, Bones, open the door!"

There was silence, and he added, "I'll kick it down if I have to, Bones."

A few seconds later, he heard the deadbolt click. Brennan opened the door and asked, "What's going on? Do we have a case?"

He pushed past her, and she shut the door behind him.

Brennan leaned against the door and repeated, "Why are you here, Booth?"

He stalked towards her, stopping when he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "I've noticed something, Bones."

She took a shuddering breath, unnerved at his closeness.

He continued, "Did you know that Ninja Girl only shows up when you're not home?"

Her forehead crinkled. "Really?"

"Really", he confirmed. "I've been watching you for three weeks, and it's true."

"I'm frequently away from home", Brennan replied. "I have a demanding schedule."

"Uh huh", Booth answered. "Running around in tights and a cape being a vigilante superhero does tend to keep you busy, I guess."

Brennan pushed past him and walked into her living room. "That's ludicrous. Go home, Booth. I'll see you tomorrow."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him. His free hand went to her waist, sliding beneath her shirt to the slick fabric underneath. "What's this you're wearing, Bones?", he asked.

She wrenched her wrist free. "I hardly think my undergarments are your business, Booth."

He slid his other hand under her shirt, and pushed it up until it was bunched under her armpits. He'd known what he'd find, but it was still a shock to see the tight black suit under her clothes. He stood there, stunned, until she wrenched away.

She walked over to the couch and sat, unzipping her boots and pulling them off. He collapsed onto the couch beside her and leaned forward, his head in his hands.

"I can't believe it."

She set her boot down on the floor and asked, "Why?"

He laughed ruefully. "That's my question. Why, Bones?"

She shrugged. "Don't you ever get tired of death, of only finding out about something terrible after it's already happened? It's … satisfying to stop crime before anyone is hurt."

"_You_ could be hurt."

"I haven't been – not seriously. I find the element of surprise is very effective."

"But ..."

"I can handle myself, Booth. You know that." She stood in an obvious invitation for him to leave. "It's time for you to go home. We have work tomorrow."

He stood as well. "You know Hodgins is going to find out who you are."

Brennan grinned. "I'm afraid Dr. Hodgins's workload has increased significantly over the past few weeks."

Booth grinned back. "Funny how that is."

"Yeah", she agreed.

He opened the door and said, "Promise me you'll be careful?"

"I promise."

"Good", he answered. "And Bones? If you need me, call."

She nodded. "I will."

He held out his fist and asked, "Partners?"

She smiled and bumped his fist with hers. "Partners."

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Anyone have any crazy prompts for me?


	7. Not Rocket Science

**What if: **Brennan had become a neurosurgeon instead of a forensic anthropologist?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

"_Sit down, _Seeley."

I love my husband, I do, but his pacing was driving me around the bend.

He must have heard the tension in my voice, because he perched on the hard plastic chair next to mine and started channeling all of that nervous energy into tapping his toes.

I'm lucky to have him. Sure, we got off to a rocky start, but we've moved past that. You see, when we met, he was in town for the weekend, on leave from the army, of all things.

My parents are doctors. I'd never met anyone in the military before.

We hit it off, though, and for the next few months, we spent weekends and holidays together whenever we could.

And then I found out I was pregnant.

He asked me to marry him. I'd never been the kind to think that people should get married just because of a child, but the thought of dealing with diapers and teething, potty training and learning to talk, all of the work and worry that goes into raising a child, was terrifying. In a moment of weakness, I said yes.

We started figuring out how to build a shared life. He left the army and got a job with the FBI. We moved in together and got married and welcomed our son.

It wasn't easy, but we made it work. Sometimes, I'd look over at him sleeping beside me and think, "This is the man I'm going to grow old with".

It was a comforting thought.

A few months ago, things started to change. He started acting in a way I can only describe as erratic. Every once in a while, I'd hear him talking to someone who wasn't there, or mentioning a conversation he'd had with someone who was long dead. I thought … well, actually, I told myself that nothing was wrong, that I'd misunderstood.

Last week, he had some kind of episode at the shooting range and I couldn't pretend that everything was OK anymore. He was rushed to the hospital, and we spent the next few days sitting in rooms just like this one, waiting to see one doctor or another.

When we finally got a diagnosis, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. The thought of a brain tumor was terrifying, but the prognosis was cautiously good. I called my mom and asked which doctor was the best, and finally we were able to get an appointment.

The institutional clock on the wall says that that appointment was 45 minutes ago.

I picked up another of the crumpled waiting room magazines and glanced at the date on the cover, wondering how a medical office that was built last year managed to have five year-old magazines in the waiting room. Sighing, I tried to read despite the jittery man beside me.

The door opened, and finally the nurse called, "Seeley Booth?" Seeley jumped up, and I followed a few steps behind as he charged after the nurse.

At least the chairs in the inner office were more comfortable, because we sat there for another 20 minutes before the doctor walked in. She was young – early thirties, maybe? - with a blue lab coat and her hair in a ponytail. She had her nose stuck in the open chart in front of her, and she barely glanced at us as she walked in.

Seeley and I exchanged nervous glances as she sat at the desk, her attention still on the file. When I thought I'd scream from the tension in the room, she closed the file and looked up.

"Mr. Booth?"

Seeley raised his hand sheepishly.

"I'd like to operate as soon as possible. No food after 10 the night before. Check in at the hospital two hours before surgery. You'll be off work for at least six weeks, maybe longer, depending on how it goes. Possible side effects include loss of vision, balance, memory loss – very rare, but I have to warn you. Any questions?"

"What should we expect as he recovers?"

I could have sworn that she'd forgotten I was even in the room until I asked the question. "Hospital for five days after surgery, possibly physiotherapy or occupational therapy, depending on side effects. We won't know until after the surgery."

She turned her attention back to my husband. "I will be doing the surgery, and one or more of my interns will assist. I'm the best in the world. You're in good hands."

I could have sworn they'd never met before, but the look they exchanged hinted at a connection that I'd never experienced. Beside me, Seeley's leg stilled and he nodded.

The doctor got up and picked up the file. "See the receptionist to schedule the surgery." On that note, she left the room.

We stood to go, and I slid my hand into my husband's, leaning ever so slightly against him.

"See?", I asked. "It'll be fine."

He was calmer than he'd been in days. "I know", he answered.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Anyone still there?


	8. Egg Hunt

**Note: **Thanks for the comments on the last one. And Happy Easter to those of you who celebrate it.

**What if: **Brennan organized an Easter egg hunt for the kids?

**AU?** No

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

It was a beautiful spring day, and the adults clustered on the porch as the children ran around the yard, searching for colourful, plastic eggs. Christine and Michael were having a competition to see who could find the most.

Well, actually, Christine was competing with Michael. Michael just smiled his sweet smile and let her do whatever she wanted, just like always.

Parker was holding hands with little Katherine, guiding her around the yard and being sure to let her feel the coolness of the damp dirt and the hardness of the smooth plastic. Occasionally, Christine's shrieks would stop for long enough that the adults could hear Parker and Katherine talking about the sound of the wind in the trees or the calls of the different birds.

Angela snuggled closer to her husband and tried to capture the moment, knowing that as her daughter grew, she'd have to face people and places that were far less friendly and accepting than the family they'd become.

When no one had found an egg in at least five minutes, they all traipsed inside and gathered around the kitchen table. The eggs were divvied up, and the kids started to open them.

The first egg contained a slip of paper with the word "Iridium" on it.

The second contained "Beryllium".

The rest of them contained Selenium, Phosphorus, muinimulA, Manganese, Carbon, Florine, and Tellurium.

The children exchanged glances, puzzled about why there was no candy in sight. In the silence, Parker barely managed to stop Katherine from eating one of the clues.

Angela nudged Hodgins and he stepped forward, clapping his hands and asking, "Can I help?"

He scooped up the papers and arranged them in front of him. "OK, these are elements. Well, most of them are, so let's see if we can figure out what they mean."

He grinned at the group and ruffled his daughter's hair. "It's a code. I _love_ codes. Now let's see, these elements all have symbols. That might help." He glanced at Brennan and raised his eyebrows, hoping for a hint, but she was completely impassive, as if she didn't want to cheat by giving him any clues.

Hodgins continued said, "We'll start with symbols. We have … Ir, Be, Se, P, … not sure what muinimulA is … Mn, C, F, and Te. As he spoke, he wrote the appropriate symbol on the each scrap of paper. He pushed the identified symbols to Parker, saying, "See if you can arrange these so they make sense", and turned his attention back to the remaining word.

It only took a few seconds for him to realize the significance of the capital letter at the end of the word instead of the beginning, and he crowed, "Aluminum! But backwards, so La instead of Al." He shot a triumphant glance at Brennan, who remained impassive, and Booth, who shot him a thumbs up, and asked, "Any luck, Parker?"

The two of them huddled over the the clues, moving them around in the hope of making sense of them. After a few minutes, Christine tired of waiting and dragged the other kids off to see her Easter basket.

It took 25 minutes for Hodgins and Parker to assemble the letters into order – Be Se Mn Te F Ir P La C. "Basement fireplace!", Parker yelled.

Seconds later, the younger kids thundered into the room. "Did you figure it out?", Christine shouted, three steps ahead of Michael and Katherine.

Parker ruffled her hair. "Think so, Squirt. Let's check the fireplace downstairs."

He took Katherine's hand as the kids rushed to the stairs. As always, Christine was in the lead, with Michael close on her heels. The adults followed, and soon the whole group was gathered around the basket on the fireplace, divvying up bags of jelly beans and chocolate eggs.

Booth slung his arm across Brennan's shoulder. "Next year", he said, "I'm planning the egg hunt."

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Comments? Suggestions? Questions about what's up with Katherine? Tips on how to stop eating jelly beans before you feel sick? Drop me a line.


	9. We Begin Again

**Note:** Sorry for the lack of update last week. I could blame the cold I'm just now getting over, but the fact is I just couldn't get the story to work. And then I got sick.

**What if: **Booth faked his death after his brain surgery, instead of after he was shot?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

_Day 1_

It was a bright, sunny morning, and she could hear the birds chirping outside her window.

Her first thought was that Booth would probably expect her to rearrange her day so that he could drag her out to eat lunch on a patio somewhere.

Then she remembered – the days she spent at Booth's bedside, the cardboard hospital food she ate in the dreary cafeteria, the pitying looks from the nurses when she returned to find an empty room.

She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, her head still fuzzy from the tears she'd cried the night before. A moment later, she was in the bathroom, letting the warm shower wash the tear stains from her cheeks.

**BbB**

_Day 2_

He woke in a clean hospital room, his boss at his side. He waited impatiently as the nurse arrived, then the doctor. When he was finally detached from the various machines that had been monitoring him in his coma, Cullen cleared the medical personnel from the room and began to explain.

When Cullen left an hour later, he carried a list:

_Bones_

_Parker (Rebecca)_

_Jared_

_Pops_

**BbB**

_Day 4_

It was almost dawn when she pulled into the Jeffersonian parking structure. She'd been disconcerted when she woke up crying – somehow, she'd never really believed that was possible. There was no chance that she'd be able to go back to sleep, so she'd gotten ready for the day, throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, hair up in a pony tail.

After all, she had no reason to dress up.

She didn't even glance at the security guard as she swiped her badge. All of her energy was focused on getting to work, to the place where she felt most at home.

**BbB**

_Day 5_

If Bones didn't call soon, he was going to lose his mind.

It was all mixed up in his head – was she his wife or his partner? Did they work together or were they having a child together or both?

He was pretty sure he didn't actually own a nightclub. If he did, Cullen's appearance make no sense at all.

He'd talked with Parker, reassured him that his dad was OK. He'd talked to Pops, promised to come for a visit once he was out of the hospital.

But he really, really needed to talk to Bones.

**BbB**

_Day 8_

As had become her custom, she got in early and checked over her schedule for the day. A meeting with Dr. Goodman at 10, a archeology consult at 1, and …. She'd forgotten that she'd booked that appointment at the fertility doctor for 4:30. When Booth had changed his mind, she'd meant to call and cancel, but after his surgery, it had been the last thing on her mind.

And he'd wanted her to go ahead if he didn't make it.

**BbB**

_Day 10_

He couldn't take much more of this – stuck in the hospital, with people he loved, people who loved _him_, thinking he was dead**.**

He was working on getting his strength back, with physio twice a day and Sweets doing his shrink thing every afternoon. Parker had come for a visit, and had pronounced his scar 'cool'. He'd reassured Rebecca that he wasn't going anywhere, that it would take more than a brain tumor to kill him.

And Bones still hadn't called.

If he wasn't so weak that the two cops at his hospital room door could easily kick his ass, he'd hunt her down and _make_ her talk to him, ongoing investigation be damned.

**BbB**

_Day 13_

The lab was buzzing with talk of the funeral, which had finally been scheduled. The Medico-Legal lab was effectively shutting down in the morning. Everyone – Cam, Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, the squinterns – was going to the funeral.

Except her. She had an appointment at the fertility clinic.__It seemed a more fitting way to honor Booth's life than spending the time in an old church or a barren graveyard.

She saw Angela bearing down on her and ducked around the corner. Angela seemed determined to make her attend the funeral, but she had more important things to do than spend her morning standing around a hole in the ground.

**BbB**

_Day 14_

He'd convinced Cullen to let him wait in the van with the surveillance team. Dr. Jursic probably wouldn't approve, but he couldn't wait to get back to his normal life - to spar with Cam, to get caught up in one of Hodgins's weird experiments, to hang out and watch the game with Wendell.

Most of all, he couldn't wait to see Bones.

He pushed his way closer to the monitors so that he could watch the graveside service. He could see Cam, and Hodgins, with his arm around Angela. Wendell, that mopey squint, and that British kid who never shut up stood together, and Daisy stood beside Sweets, whispering in his ear.

Bones wasn't there.

The surveillance team pulled up the view from the other camera, and he saw some guys from his hockey team and Father Joe from church, but still no Bones.

Where _was _she?

**BbB**

_Day 15_

They'd been angry with each other before, but neither of them could remember ever being _that_ angry.

Of course, the anger masked the pain – that he hadn't told her he was alive, that she hadn't gone to his funeral, that their relationship was off balance and neither of them knew how to get it back.

They retreated to their figurative corners and tried to catch their breath. He went home and spent five hours resting on the couch before he could summon the energy to think of food. Almost everything in the fridge had gone bad, but he managed to pull together an omelet. He'd have to get Jared to take him grocery shopping in the morning.

She went back to the lab, blocking out the celebratory atmosphere as much as possible, focusing instead on identifying remains whose families had long since given up hope. She didn't call – didn't even consider it. She'd learned a long time ago that it was better not to care.

She wouldn't forget again.

**BbB**

_Day 17_

She still wasn't answering his calls.

It wasn't his fault – he'd put her on the list, told Cullen that she was one of the people who _had_ to know he was alive. He'd thought she'd been told, that she was just busy or angry or trying to keep the secret – she'd never been a good actor, after all. God, for all he'd known, she could have been dating another loser or on some dig in the middle of nowhere.

It hadn't crossed his mind that she might have thought he was dead.

He'd make that clear to her, apologize for the mix-up, too – if she ever answered the phone.

**BbB**

_Day 23_

Cam had visited Booth.

So had Hodgins and Angela, who seemed to be together again. The squinterns had gone en masse, and rumor was that it was a good thing Booth's weapon had been locked away until he recovered.

She was the only one who hadn't gone.

She was still angry, still hurt, but she missed him, and she'd thought she'd never see him again, so she stopped by the diner to pick up some soup and a slice of pie and made the trip to his apartment.

It was weird and awkward at first, but soon they forgot themselves and started acting like the old friends they were.

She left happier than she'd been in weeks.

**BbB**

_Day 27_

They were going to be OK. They were back to phone calls and texts, take-out food and bickering over whose turn it was to pay.

Sure, he had a while to go before he'd be cleared to go back to work, but that didn't matter – it had been a long time since their partnership had been only about work, anyway.

The important thing was that they were back, and everything was going to be fine.

**BbB**

_Day 32_

She sat on the tile floor, back to the wall, staring blindly at the pregnancy test in her hand.

When she'd decided to go ahead, she'd thought she was honoring Booth's last wish. He'd changed his mind, told her he wanted her to try to conceive his child, even though he wouldn't be around to act as the child's father.

It had given her comfort to think that she'd have Booth's child to love, a little piece of him that survived death.

But his agreement had been contingent on his death, and he was alive.

**BbB**

_Day 35_

She was avoiding him.

Again.

It had been four days since she'd stopped by, and she never had time to talk anymore. Sure, she replied to his texts and answered the phone, but she was always busy with work or vague plans or something, so they could never talk long.

He considered giving Angela a call to see if Bones was dating someone. He could play the invalid card to get one of the guys to run a name through the system for him ….

**BbB**

_Day 42_

She missed him.

Again.

He hadn't called in 45 hours – probably because he was tired to talking to someone who made increasingly bizarre excuses not to talk. He probably thought she was still mad at him, not realizing that the truth was that she was still too panicked to talk to him.

But that had to end. She had to tell him.

She walked up the stairs and knocked on his apartment door.

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I'm not super sure this format worked, but I am very, very glad it's finally done.

.


	10. We Carry On

**Note:** A follow-up to "We Begin Again" – so read that one first, if you haven't already.

**What if: **Brennan had been pregnant when Booth came out of his coma?

**AU?** Yes

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_Day 43_

The sheets on the other side of the bed were cool under his fingers. She must have gotten up early.

Maybe she had a meeting, or a doctor's appointment, or …

He woke fully and remembered. Bones was his partner, not his wife, and he was an FBI agent, not a nightclub owner.

There were similarities between the two lives, and he was pretty sure that one of them was that she was pregnant with is child.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wondering how fast a brain tumor could return.

**BbB**

_Day 47_

Brennan pulled the take-out bags out of the car and shut the door. She pressed the lock button on the remote and took a deep breath, anxious about the upcoming conversation.

She'd meant it when she'd said she could raise her child alone. She was still prepared to do that, but she was fairly certain that Booth wouldn't agree.

She steeled herself and walked towards his building, hoping they could find a solution they both could live with.

There really wasn't any other option.

**BbB**

_Day 98_

He sat beside her as the ultrasound technician spread goo on her belly, wondering if he should hold her hand.

What was the etiquette when your work partner was having your child, anyway?

When she'd casually mentioned the appointment, he'd insisted on joining her. He was the father, and it was important that he be there. He hadn't anticipated how awkward it was to be referred to as "Mr. Brennan", or to sit in the room as she changed, trying not to see anything he shouldn't see.

If they'd done this the way he'd sometimes thought they might, he'd be holding her hand.

The technician moved the wand and white blobs appeared on the screen. Beside him, he heard Bones inhale.

And she reached out and took his hand.

**BbB**

_Day 134_

Brennan glared at the rows of neatly hung clothes in her closet. There was her favourite pair of pants, and that shirt that always made her feel as powerful as Wonder Woman, and that dress that she wore the day Booth stumbled over a line on the floor.

Well, the stumbling may have had something to do with the totally impractical heels she'd been wearing with the dress.

The point was that she had thousands of dollars of beautiful clothes at her disposal, and none of them fit properly.

She pulled on a wrap skirt and reluctantly admitted that it was time to go shopping.

**BbB**

_Day 234_

Rush hour traffic made for a slow drive back from the victim's mother's house. They slowed to a crawl, and Booth tapped the steering wheel in time with the radio. Sure, it wasn't his choice of music, but it had grown on him over the years. He heard weird-ass music, and his first thought was "Bones is here". It was kind of nice.

She was sitting beside him as usual, absently rubbing her belly as she stared out the window. He glanced over, and was amazed to see her belly jumping.

"He's kicking, huh?"

She turned toward him and smiled. "Yes, she likes the music."

He laughed. "Well, we know he gets that from you."

They sat quietly for a moment, then he asked, "What does it feel like?"

She shrugged. "It feels like someone's kicking my ribs. Luckily, she's still small."

"Oh."

"Do you want to feel?"

He glanced towards her. "Can I?"

She nodded, and he tentatively put his hand on her belly. The baby kicked, and he laughed with joy. "She's pretty strong."

Brennan grinned. "You have no idea."

**BbB**

_Day 257_

The woman he'd run into – literally – at the grocery store couldn't have been more gracious. He'd felt awful for not looking where he was going, and she'd accepted his apology and then somehow made him laugh.

So why, when she'd asked him if he wanted to get a cup of coffee, did he feel like he'd be cheating if he said yes?

He and Bones were partners, and would soon be parents together, but there was nothing else between them. He wasn't dating Bones.

But, he had to admit, he wasn't dating anyone else, either.

**BbB**

_Day 273_

Brennan carefully set the femur into the box. Staying in the lab was quieter than field work, but she'd managed to identify an acceptable number of remains from bone storage, and it was a lot less physically demanding than scrambling over uneven terrain to reach a crime scene.

Her paperwork was up to date and her office was tidy enough that someone else could use it for six weeks. At home, the baby's room was furnished, stacks of tiny clothes sitting in the dresser. At Booth's apartment sat an identical crib, dresser, and rocking chair and more tiny clothing. She'd interviewed nannies and hired her favourite.

She was ready.

Except for the part of her that wasn't ready at all.

**BbB**

_Day 282_

He wasn't ready.

He _especially_ wasn't ready to watch Bones have the baby at home – no doctor, no nurses, no painkillers, nothing but him and the midwife. Yeah, he'd been through this once before and they'd covered childbirth in his latest first aid refresh, but he would be far more comfortable in a hospital.

Apparently, his comfort wasn't the top consideration. Bones wanted a home birth, so a home birth it would be.

He raced up the stairs and prayed nothing would go wrong.

**BbB**

_Day 283_

Brennan shut the door behind the midwife and walked back towards the couch, where Booth was holding their daughter. She sat down beside him, still fascinated with the miracle of their beautiful child.

After a few minutes, Booth looked at her. "I guess I should let you get some rest. Will you be OK tonight?"

Brennan nodded, "We'll be fine. But I have a guest room."

He searched her face, trying to understand what she was saying.

"You must be tired", she added. "You should stay."

He nodded in agreement and stood, holding out his hand. When she was standing, he handed her the baby and they walked towards the nursery together, his hand on her back.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Any other ones that need a follow-up? Anyone want to talk about the messed up timeline from last week's episode? General comments/suggestions? Let me know.


	11. She Stopped Loving Him Today

**Note:** Warning: Character death. And, well, see the what if.

**What if: **Booth had married Hannah?

**Note #2: **Also, Doctor in the Photo didn't happen in this universe.

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

The vinyl on the chairs had been replaced. The linoleum on the floor was faded and scarred, but it was the same pattern she remembered.

They were the first ones to arrive, and they claimed the same old table by the window, the one where they'd had so many good times. By the time Zach arrived, they'd ordered coffee and were desultorily discussing the changes they'd noticed in DC since their last visit.

Soon Zach and Hodgins were deep in conversation, and before long Cam joined them, along with Wendell, Sweets, and Clark.

By the time Caroline's grandson wheeled her chair over to the table, the conversation was flowing fast and loud as they traded introductions and greeted the friends they hadn't seen in years.

They pulled over another table and shifted around to make room for the retired judge, seating her at the head of the table. Her recent surgery hadn't diminished her personality, and she took stock of the group clustered around the table – the artist, the professor, the coroner, the forensic anthropologist, the engineer, the psychologist, and the CEO. "Well", she said, "it seems like we're missing someone."

The group exchanged glances, and Cam raised her hand as if she were a child being asked a question by a demanding teacher. "I called him. And e-mailed. I didn't get an answer."

"Hmph", Caroline replied. "Seems like the least he could do would be to answer. Someone needs to teach that boy some manners."

"Agent Booth is hardly a boy", Zach answered seriously. "I'd estimate that he's at least fifty nine."

Caroline glared at him affectionately. "I see all those years in the looney bin didn't teach you that the year you were born has nothing to do with how old you are."

Zach opened his mouth to answer, but was silenced by a kick under the table. As he turned, puzzled, to Hodgins, Angela squealed. "There he is!"

They all shifted and craned their necks to confirm the sight of Booth walking slowly up the street, as if he were dragging himself every step of the way. The conversation died down as they waited for him to join them. When he'd finally made his way inside and sat down at the remaining chair, Sweets said, "Good to see you, Agent Booth".

"It's about time", Caroline added.

"Good to see you, too, Caroline", Booth answered.

"Good to see me", Caroline fussed, "Of course it's good to see me. And it's good to see you, too, even if you don't have the sense God gave an apricot."

"But..." Zach started, only to be cut off by another kick.

"Caroline", Angela said bravely, "It wasn't Booth's fault."

"Hmph", Caroline answered, "It wasn't _only_ Booth's fault. Dr. Brennan had her part in it, too, God rest her soul. But if Booth hadn't married that reporter, the bone lady would still be here, and not buried under a pile of rocks in some god-forsaken country."

"Ms. Julien!", Cam scolded, "Booth didn't make her leave."

"Did I say Booth made her leave?", Caroline asked innocently, "Of course Booth didn't make her leave. Only a fool would think Dr. Brennan ever did anything other than what she wanted to do, and I am _not _a fool."

"We're agreed", Booth said. "It wasn't my fault that Bones decided to quit her job and start being some sort of traveling anthropologist – all of which happened twenty years ago, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, that was your fault", Angela said loyally. "But the rock slide wasn't."

Booth glared at her. "Bones wasn't happy with her job here. That's why she took off to the Makapoopoo Islands, and that's why she quit for good after we got back."

Angela shook her head. "Nope. Uh uh. Not what happened."

Hodgins nodded. "She's right."

"Sorry, Seeley, I have to go with Angela on this one. Dr. Brennan left because you married Hannah.", Cam added.

"Don't call me Seeley, Camille."

"Then don't call me Camille", Cam answered, as she always did.

Booth leaned across the table toward Angela. "Ange, seriously, she didn't leave because of me and Hannah."

Angela nodded.

"But …" Booth glanced around the table, noticing the number of people who didn't meet his eyes. "She said she didn't want me", he hissed in Angela's direction. "She was happy about me and Hannah."

"No", Angela answered, "She said she was scared. And she tried really hard to be happy for you, but I'm not sure she actually succeeded. Not that she'd ever say so."

"Dr. Brennan made her choices, just like you did", Sweets interjected. "You weren't responsible for her choices, any more than she was responsible for yours."

Booth sat back in his chair, looking like that idea didn't give him any comfort.

"I know!", Hodgins said in an attempt to redirect the conversation, "Let's tell stories about Dr. B."

"Like the time she did a post-mortem exam on the chicken at a dinner party", Angela contributed.

"She and I devised an early warning system so that she could let me know Cam was around when I was doing an unauthorized experiment", Hodgins said. "It was brilliant. He grinned at Cam. "You never caught on."

"Hmph", Cam replied, sounding remarkably like Caroline.

"She was the toughest professor I ever had", Wendell added. "Man, she expected me to be perfect every time. I wouldn't be the forensic anthropologist I am without her."

"Dr. Brennan could be very demanding", Zach agreed. "But she also came to visit me every Wednesday that she was in town. Of course, it's been a while since I've seen her."

"When we were buried alive", Hodgins said, "She cut my leg open – remember? And she told me I wasn't allowed to die, that she didn't want more air if that was the cost."

"She used to send me notes on my psychological assessments. If I made a typo or misspelled the subject's name, I knew there'd be a copy of it in my mailbox, corrected in red ink."

"Dr. Brennan … she was amazingly brilliant. And stubborn. You all know that. I swear she used her veto every week. If it was Friday afternoon and she hadn't used it yet, I _knew_ she'd come up with some reason to use it, just to make a point", Cam remembered.

"Which was?", Clark asked.

Cam grinned. "That even though I was her boss, she'd still do whatever she wanted."

"Tells you what a pain in the ass she could be", Caroline contributed. "But she _was_ brilliant. She got me more convictions than any other squint. That's why I know her name. And that's why I'm here with you all to pay tribute to an amazing woman."

"To Dr. Brennan." Sweets raised his coffee cup in a toast.

Coffee cups, water glasses, and one chocolate milkshake were raised in a gesture of respect.

Booth's phone buzzed and he glanced at the message. "I need to go", he said. "Basketball practice is over, and I'm doing pick-up today." He pushed his chair back and stood. "Good to see you all."

Angela pushed back her chair as well. "Booth, can I talk to you?"

They stepped away from the table, and she handed him a picture of him and Brennan, toe to toe, obviously in the middle of a heated discussion. "This was in her pack. She carried it with her everywhere. You should have it."

Booth took the picture, then met Angela's gaze helplessly. Angela wrapped her arms around him. "She loved you", she whispered, "She wanted you to be happy – she did – she just couldn't stay and watch."

"I … " Booth tried to reply.

"She knew", Angela answered. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She dropped her arms, and he took a step back, staring at her wordlessly.

"Go", she said, smiling. "You have kids to pick up from basketball."

He nodded and waved to the group of people trying to look as if they weren't eavesdropping, then he turned and left the diner.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Allow me to duck behind this big inanimate object ….

More seriously, I need non-AU suggestions. What are some what ifs that could actually happen in the universe that exists today? (Or possibly the universe that exists on Tuesday, because we all know I'm unlikely to update before then.)


	12. Written In The Scars

**Note:** Everyone's trying to make things better after the finale. Except me. I'm making it worse.

**What if: **Booth thought Brennan was cheating on him?

**AU?** No

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

They weren't OK.

How could they be? He'd told her he couldn't marry her. Sure, he'd couched it in words that made it seem like it was just the timing, but let's face it – the woman you love, the one who has spent her entire adult life claiming she sees no point in marriage, changes her mind and says she wants to marry you – and you say "no, thanks"? There's no way that didn't hurt.

Sometimes he couldn't believe he'd actually done it, but he hadn't seen any other option. He'd thought it through – even made a list of pros and cons, long since shredded, that she would have been proud of if he could tell her about it.

In the end, he hadn't seen any other option. He had enough deaths on his conscience, and he couldn't be responsible for 5 more, so he sat down and said the hardest thing he'd had to say in his life. He'd broken her heart, he'd broken his own heart, and, based on how things had been since then, he might have cost both of them the best relationship of their lives.

There was a distance between them that had _never_ been there before. Not when they'd just met, not when she refused to take his calls for a year, not when he was trying his best to be in love with someone else. There'd always been an attraction between them, a rubber band that snapped them back together just when they thought they'd break apart. But now … now she looked at him like she was afraid he was going to hurt her again.

And he couldn't promise he wouldn't.

Since he'd turned her down, they'd both starting finding excuses to avoid each other – working late, taking Christine on an outing with friends or family, going on a run or to the gym, working on a new project – whatever it took to have a reason not to be at home together. She'd started taking her own vehicle to crime scenes – something she hadn't done since the months he was with Hannah. Before long, it seemed like the only time they were in the same place was when one of them was asleep.

Someone had to make the first move.

It had to be him. After all, he was the one who put the distance between them. It was up to him to bridge it.

It took him a few days to work out what to do. Finally he settled on a lunch invitation – issued in person, so that it would be harder to say no.

The medico-legal lab went silent when he walked in at 11:25. He shouldn't have been surprised; he already knew rumours spread like wildfire in that place. He could see Daisy open her mouth to say something, and heard Hodgins's hissed, "No". He breezed past the platform while Daisy stared at Hodgins in confusion.

He could see Bones's office was empty, so he continued down the hall. He could hear Bones's voice as he neared Angela's office, and he slowed his pace, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Just as he was about to walk through the door, Angela asked, "What does Booth think?" He stopped short.

"I'm a free agent", Bones replied dismissively.

There was a tone in her voice – a little hurt, a little stubborness – that spurred him into motion again and propelled him through the door. "Bones?"

Angela looked at him, then at Bones, and pulled her purse out of her desk drawer. "I'll leave you two alone."

He barely noticed her leave, his attention focused on his partner. "What's going on, Bones?" he asked, his tone deliberately calm.

She turned, leaning back against Angela's desk, and met his eyes for the first time in weeks. "I'm going on a dig. Rural China. Six weeks. I leave next Friday."

He nodded, afraid that if he tried to talk, he'd start shouting. She continued, "I was hoping you could handle Christine. Dad will help. But if it's too much for you, I can bring her with me. I have a couple of recommendations for nannies."

"She stays with me", he rasped.

"That's the ideal situation", she answered. "I'll be working long days, and it would be better for her to stay with you. I'll call her every day."

He stared at her, wondering how things between them had gotten so bad, so fast. "Your dad knows. Angela knows. Cam must know. The damned _nanny agency_ knows you're going. It seems like the only one who didn't know that you're leaving is me."

"I was going to tell you", she said quietly.

"When?" His voice raised, as he started to lose the tight hold he was keeping on his temper. "Were you going to call me from the _airport_? When were you going to tell me you were leaving me?"

"I don't know", she answered. "I just … I need some space. Things have been … we're broken, Booth, and I need to figure out what comes next."

"We work through this", he answered, desperate to convince her.

"I don't know if we can", she answered. "Look, Booth, I have a lot to wrap up. Can we discuss this tonight?"

**BbB**

He drove her to the airport.

Nothing was really resolved – the chasm between them wasn't getting any smaller – but they'd agreed to take the time apart to think about what they wanted.

He already knew what he wanted, and they _had _to work out. They'd come through so much already, they could survive this, too. If she needed time, he'd give it to her, but the end game was the two of them together. He clung to that thought as he hugged her and watched her walk away.

**BbB**

That first call was awkward. She had just landed, and he put her on speaker-phone so that she could hear Christine babble away as she ate breakfast. She told him how the three hour delay of her first flight had messed up the rest of her connections and described the camp where she'd be staying. He told her about their trip to the playground and the picture Christine had painted at daycare. When Christine started calling "Mommy?", he could hear the tears in her voice.

After a few days, they got into a routine. She'd call as he was getting ready for the day, they'd chat for a couple of minutes, then she'd listen to Christine talk or eat or sing.

One day, she mentioned that she was doing some sightseeing, taking the morning off to see some of the countryside with some colleagues. He was glad to hear it – she always worked too hard on those digs, coming home exhausted and drawn.

The next morning, he remembered to ask if she'd enjoyed it. She laughed and said she had, her voice warming as she told a story about someone named Curt trying to barter for a trinket. It was the longest conversation they'd had since she'd left.

That morning, he googled the other members of her team, finally locating a picture of Curt – who not only wasn't elderly, but apparently was some fancy doctor of archeology from the UK.

He probably had a stupid accent and everything.

Booth tried to tell himself that he had nothing to worry about, that he'd imagined the warmth in her voice, that they just worked together. Somehow he didn't find that thought reassuring.

At least Curt's name didn't come up in conversation again the next day. They fell back into their usual pattern, trading a story or two about their day before Brennan tried to talk with Christine.

By the time she called two days later, he'd convinced himself that he had overreacted. They chatted as usual, and she was listening to Christine sing a repetitive song that would probably be stuck in his head for the rest of the day when he heard someone say, "Hey, Tempe" in a smarmy accent. The call went silent as she muted her phone, then she came back and cut the call short.

She apologized the next day, telling him some story about a situation that had required her immediate attention, but ...those bones had been there for thousands of years – surely they could have waited until she was off the phone.

Over the next few weeks, Booth found himself tensing every time she mentioned an amusing story she'd heard, or a trip for supplies, or … anything, really, that reminded him that he was half a word away and she was spending her days with Curt.

The worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it. She was, as she'd said, a free agent.

On day 36, Christine was tired and lethargic, obviously coming down with something. Max was babysitting, so he gave him strict instructions to call if it got worse and went to work.

By ten, her fever had risen to a point where Max was worried. He called Cam and followed the instructions she gave him, but Christine's fever kept rising. By noon, they were sitting in the ER, and it was close to one when he realized he had to call Bones. He briefly debated waiting until morning her time, but she needed to know, to prepare herself in case it got worse. He called.

When a sleepy British voice answered the phone, he considered hanging up. Instead, he pushed back the rage and asked for Brennan. She came on the line seconds later, sounding awake and concerned. He told her the situation and promised to update her as soon as something changed, then hung up the phone and slumped into the uncomfortable hospital chair.

Two hours later they were given a prescription for antibiotics and sent home. He held Christine close as she fussed, walking the floor and murmuring soothing nonsense to comfort her, grappling with thought of Bones with Curt – sitting under a tree, heads bent together, laughing over an inside joke; bickering over a set of ancient remains; naked, bodies fused together.

By the time Christine finally fell asleep, they were both exhausted.

Christine started to recover quickly, and the next day he left her with Max and went back to work, trying to decide what to do. They had a life together, a child – surely she wouldn't throw that all away for some anthropology squint.

Except … the squint made her laugh, and he made her cry.

If she wanted to go, to be with someone who made her happy, could he really stand in her way?

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Luckily, I already have a hiding place picked out.


	13. Not Broken Just Bent

**Note:** I've never received so many messages containing the word "pummel". A sequel to Written in the Scars. (Also, for some reason I invented a character named Curt and my brain insists on remembering his name as Colin, so if I use the wrong name, please let me know.)

**What if: **Booth & Brennan ended up in couples counseling again?

**AU?** No

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

She couldn't wait to be home – to hold her daughter close, to sleep in her own bed, to sit in the back yard and watch the wind ruffle the leaves of the tree she and Booth had planted when Christine was born.

When she'd left, they'd been broken, torn apart by her ill-advised decision to ask him to marry her, and by the gentle way he'd turned her down.

She still didn't really understand why. Booth had always wanted marriage. It was an important part of his faith, of his goals for his life, of his ideal vision of what a family should be. They'd have to sort that out before they could move on with their lives together – and, marriage or not, she still wanted to spend her life with him.

She pulled her bag out of the overhead bin and waited impatiently for the flight attendant to open the door.

**BbB**

Christine shrieked when she saw her, then shyly burrowed her head into Booth's neck when Brennan tried to take her.

They made small talk in the car, talking about traffic and weather, her flights and the minor changes around the house. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she had to tell him, but she didn't want to talk about it with their daughter in the car.

They picked up dinner on the way home, and by the end of the meal, Christine had warmed up to her again. Brennan spent the evening with her daughter, marveling at how much Christine had grown and learned while she'd been gone. By the time she gave Christine her bath, read her a story, and tucked her into bed, she was exhausted. She took a quick shower and fell into bed.

When she woke, it was still dark – her internal clock was completely messed up from traveling – and he was asleep beside her. She lay there, breathing in the scent that was so uniquely him, and watched him sleep. Before long, she was asleep again.

When she woke again, he was gone, and Christine was yelling her displeasure at being stuck in her crib.

**BbB**

They settled back into a routine, without ever talking about the things she'd planned to say when she got back. She'd wanted to tell him about her trip, to ask him why he'd decided he didn't want to marry her, to figure out whether they had a future together, but it was too awkward to bring up, the stakes too high. She said nothing.

Their relationship wasn't as good as it at once been, but it _also_ wasn't as bad as it had been before she left. It wasn't the life she'd wanted, but it still more than she was willing to lose.

Besides, her days were busy with work, consulting with the team from China, and writing the pile of intern evaluations that were due, and her evenings were split between time with her daughter and struggling with the novel that just _refused_ to come together. She knew they needed to talk things out, probably with a counselor of some sort, but she didn't know where she'd find the time. That is, _if _Booth agreed to see a counselor. He was still distant, and it felt like a year since he'd touched her.

She had a lucrative career as an author, but she couldn't find the words to ask him to try.

**BbB**

Seven weeks after she returned home, the team in China sent her some x-rays she just couldn't make sense of. She needed to see the bones.

She briefly considered making a quick trip back, but it was a bad time to leave, both at work and at home, so she asked them to courier the remains to her. Two days later, the doorbell rang while she was tucking Christine into bed. Booth was working late, so she kissed her daughter goodnight and hurried to the door.

When she saw it was Curt, she started laughing. "I thought you were going to courier the bones."

He grinned back. "I _am_ the courier."

"You have three doctorates", she replied.

"It's good to see you, too", he said. "Are you going to invite me in?"

**BbB**

The tentative peace they'd been living with was shattered when Booth got home. She was sitting on the couch with Curt, a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of them. Booth took one look at them and stormed out of the house. She followed, and they ended up in a hushed but intense argument on the driveway,. Booth was angrier than she could ever remember seeing him, and apparently had taken an instantaneous dislike to Curt. She was embarrassed that he'd pick a fight in front of her friend and somewhat stunned by his anger.

When he drove away, she sank onto the front step, her head in her hands. A few minutes later, Curt came out and pulled her to her feet. He held her while she cried and then bundled her into the house.

**BbB**

She woke Sweets up the next morning to ask him for a recommendation for a couples counselor – a real one, not some FBI profiler. It was a testament to how terrible she must have sounded that he gave her a couple of names without arguing or asking any questions.

She waited impatiently for the office to open, then made an appointment.

And then she called Booth.

**BbB**

They had their first session that afternoon. It didn't go well – Booth was still angry, and she didn't understand why. By the time the session was over, they had agreed that they needed some time apart, and worked out a basic visitation schedule so that Christine would still have both of her parents in her life.

It was exhausting, and when they walked out of the office, they were both ready for a break. She went home to their daughter, and he went … well, she wasn't really sure where he was staying.

It was strange, living in their house without him there. She'd never noticed the odd creaks in the middle of the night, or the way headlights on the neighbours' car made strange shadows on the living room wall when they pulled out of their driveway.

She'd expected to miss him – she always did, when they were apart – but she was surprised by how much she'd come to depend on him to take care of some of the chores of daily life – making sure the trash went out on time, changing the furnace filter, making dinner on Sunday night. She was quite capable of doing those things, but it had been nice not to have to.

The hard work started in their second session. Booth refused to talk about his refusal to marry her, which made the therapist scribble furiously on her note pad. That still didn't make sense, but then again, Booth had been acting strangely lately.

Since that topic was off the table, she asked the other question that they'd never discussed – why he'd been so angry when he saw her with Curt.

When he told her, it was her turn to walk out.

**BbB**

He should have trusted her, should have known that she loved him.

She was angry.

She was hurt.

But the worst part was that he wasn't entirely wrong.

She took a few days to think about what she wanted. By their third session, she was ready to talk about it.

**BbB**

Booth walked into the room like a man going to his execution.

She knew how he felt.

She took a deep breath and started to talk. She told him how hurt she was that he didn't want to marry her, how much she'd needed some time to work through it. She talked about how lonely it was to be away from him, from Christine, and about how she'd clicked with Curt almost immediately. She told him how much she'd come to rely on their daily calls, about the respite they gave her from examining the bones of children and teenagers who'd died horrible deaths so long ago. She'd stockpiled amusing stories to share with him on those calls, hoping to bridge the the literal and figurative distance between them. It had worked, a little, but they were still so far apart, and in between their calls, it had been Curt who'd made her laugh, who helped her get through the day.

And then, one day, Curt had kissed her, and she'd kissed him back. She liked him, and she wasn't sure she and Booth would ever be able to get past their differences, and she'd wondered what it would be like.

And then she'd called a halt, apologized to Curt, and gone back to her tent to sort out what she really wanted.

By the next morning, she knew she wanted to be with Booth, married or not.

She watched his face as she talked, noticing the guilt, the pain, and then, finally, the hope. She finished talking and waited quietly for his response.

**BbB**

Three weeks later, he asked to move back home.

Things between them had been steadily getting better. They'd started having lunch together a few times a week, and were practicing the techniques they'd learned in therapy. They'd even gone on a couple of excursions to the park or the playground as a family.

He thought it was time to live together again, to work on being a family full time.

She said no.

**BbB**

Knowing she'd made the right decision didn't make sleeping alone any easier.

And it _was_ the right decision. He _knew_ how much she'd been hurt when he'd rejected her, but he still wouldn't discuss it. She'd thought he wanted to marry her, that he was just waiting for her to catch up, so it just didn't make sense that he would turn her down.

Maybe she'd never really known him at all.

Or maybe he'd told the truth. Maybe it was just bad timing, with the Pelant case ….

She sat upright in bed.

_Pelant._

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I considered taking them a little further, but I think this is a good end point.

Next chapter will be something completely different, possibly involving Max.

And it will probably be a couple of weeks for the next update, because next weekend is crazy. Unless I get super motivated tomorrow, since I have the day off. Feel free to leave a review to motivate me. :)


	14. Learn to Love Again

**Note:** Some comments on the last one. For those who think Brennan wouldn't even consider kissing someone other than Booth, you have to keep in mind how she got there – she's seen Booth devastated after Rebecca rejected him, and again with Hannah. She thinks he wants her to propose to him – and he says no. She's faced with the possibility that they're not going to be together long term, and she's wondering what her life would be like without him in it. Yes, there are other ways that could go, but I think this one is plausible. Oh, and she didn't have an affair – during the early morning phone call, she was still working. Curt fell asleep waiting for her to finish.

And if I need huge paragraph to explain things, maybe it wasn't all that clear. :)

Here's the final installment – since people don't seem to like it when I end things with Booth & Brennan still apart.

**What if: **Brennan figured out it was Pelant who convinced Booth not to marry her?

**AU?** No

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

The thud of his fists hitting the bag were the only sound in the gym, everyone else having given up and gone home hours before.

He didn't care. Being there was better than watching Jared and Padme together, or listening to a quiet voice reading a bedtime story in the other room.

It hurt to see them, to realize that he might never get his family back, so spent his evenings eating take-out at his desk, then punishing himself in the FBI gym until he was exhausted enough to sleep. He threw one last punch and decided to call it a night. He grabbed his hand towel and wiped his face as he walked towards the locker room.

The room was deserted, a discarded towel in a corner, a few lockers standing open, a spare shoe kicked under a bench. He threw the towel on the locker room bench and was spinning the dial on his lock when he sensed someone behind him. He looked over his shoulder, wondering who was still around.

"Bones!"

He glanced around the empty room. "This is the men's locker room", he hissed.

Her lips twisted in a hint of a smile. "I'm aware of that."

He looked over at the closed door. "How did you get in? The door automatically locks at nine."

She shrugged. "Angela is very good."

They stood in silence for a moment, as he tried to figure out what to say next. She broke the ice. "Weren't you going to take a shower?", she asked.

"Right", he answered. "Do you want to wait here?" He opened his locker and tossed his shirt inside as he waited for her reply.

"No", she grinned mischievously. "I thought I'd join you." He spun around as she pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it onto the bench. A moment later, the rest of her clothes had joined it and she was walking towards the shower.

**BbB**

By the time he made it to the shower, she had two faucets spraying hot water. She stood under one of them, her hair soaked, water rolling down her body.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He hung his towel on a hook and hesitated for a moment, until she gestured invitingly at the shower next to her. He walked over and ducked under the water, feeling the warmth cascade over his already-heated body.

She stepped closer and pressed herself against his back, wrapping her arms around him. He could feel her breath on his neck as she leaned closer.

"What did Pelant do?"

Stunned, he spun around, taking a step back, out of her arms. "What?" he sputtered.

She stepped forward, embracing him again, and whispered, "He can't be listening to us here, but we still need to be quiet. I need to know, Booth."

He slumped against the wall, cold tile against his back. "He's going to kill people. More people."

"If?", she asked, her eyes on his.

"If I marry you, or tell you about it."

She nodded. "I thought that might be it."

"I didn't want to … I want to marry you, Bones. I've never wanted _anything_ as much as I want that. But I can't be responsible for innocent people dying."

"You wouldn't be", she answered. "If they die, it's Pelant's fault, not yours. And if we catch him, he won't be able to kill anyone."

"How are we going to do that? I mean, we've tried, Bones, and he's still out there."

"We'll figure it out. Together, just like always."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I wish I believed we could do that."

"We're very good."

"We are." He laughed. "Oh, Bones, it feels so good to tell you about this."

"We can't discuss this anywhere else", she explained. "We don't know how he's getting his information."

"But you decided he wouldn't bug the FBI gym?" he asked.

"Well, the showers", she answered. "The water would destroy any electronics, so we're fairly safe here."

He pulled her a little closer. "I'm so glad you figured it out."

She rested her head against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. "Me too."

They stood there for a moment, until she asked, "Booth?"

"Mmm", he answered.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?"

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

And … Max is the next chapter, in an entirely different story - which is already written, because this is crazy-busy week for me, so naturally I made time to write two chapters instead of zero.


	15. Ambush

**Note:** And now for a different approach to the aftermath of the finale.

**What if: **Max found out about the canceled wedding?

**AU?** No

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"Thanks, Charlie."

Booth wove his way through the desks toward his office, his attention still on the case file in his hands. He shut his door and took a step towards his desk before he noticed that there was someone already sitting in his chair..

"Come in, Booth."

The file dropped to his side as he stared at Max. "This is my office", he replied. "You don't get to invite me in."

Max didn't reply, just nodded towards the guest chair. "Have a seat."

It was probably easiest just to go along with whatever Max had in mind. Booth tossed the file on the desk and sat down. The guest chair was all wrong – a little too short, with the arm rests in the wrong spot. He glared at Max..

"I'm sitting."

Max nodded. "I see that."

Booth squirmed impatiently as the silence between them stretched to one minute, then two. Finally, he could wait no longer. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

Max picked up a pen and started to unscrew it. "I know a lot of people."

"I'm sure you do", Booth answered.

"I worked at the Jeffersonian for a while", Max continued.

"Are you trying to apply for a job?", Booth asked. "Because you need to go to the third floor. But I should warn you, we don't hire felons."

Max smiled, just a little. "My point, Booth, is that I know people. People at the Jeffersonian. People who know what's going on."

"Great", Booth answered irritably. "Always good to know people who know what's going on. Do you have a point?"

Max pulled the two pieces of the pen apart, to reveal a sharp stiletto. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and picked it up, testing the weight.

"A few days ago, I heard an interesting rumor", he said. "The Jeffersonian was fairly buzzing with it. The bone lady and her FBI agent partner were getting married. Any idea how that one got started?"

Booth didn't answer – he had no idea what to say, how to explain what had happened.

Max continued, "But … a day later, things changed. There were new rumors – the FBI guy had called it off, told the bone lady he didn't want to marry her."

He stood and walked towards Booth, the stiletto still in his hand. "That true, Booth?"

Booth gasped for air, as if the walls of the room were closing in on him. "Max...", he managed to say, then trailed off into silence.

"I know better than anyone that Tempe can take care of herself", Max said. "She had to, when she was much too young, and she's never failed. So I didn't do anything when you broke her heart and told her you were in love with someone else."

He tossed the stiletto from hand to hand in a practiced move. "I stood by when you moved in together, and I welcomed my grandchild, even though my daughter wasn't married. I know, she says it doesn't matter, that it's just a piece of paper, but you and I know that it's a symbol, a sign that two people want to build a life together." He took a step forward, and Booth scooted back. "She loved you, and you loved her, and I love her enough to let her figure it out for herself." He grinned, and Booth could see why he was a successful con man. "Besides, Tempe knows how to hold a grudge, and I had no intention of giving her an excuse to stop letting me spend time with that beautiful baby."

When he stepped forward again, Booth was trapped against the wall. Max leaned forward, letting the tip of the stiletto press against Booth's chest. "But now, Booth? Give me one reason why I should let you live."

"You're in FBI headquarters", Booth squeaked. "You can't possibly think you'll get away with killing an FBI agent."

Max shrugged. "I've been in prison before."

"You promised Bones you wouldn't kill people anymore."

Max raised one eyebrow. "You think she'll hold me to it after what you did?"

Booth glanced at the door, praying for an interruption. Max pressed a little harder, just to get his attention.

Booth's shoulders slumped. "I love her", he said.

The pressure eased, just a little, as Max tilted his head and asked, "So what's all this about?"

"I can't tell you", Booth answered.

"I'm fairly certain you can", Max answered.

"No", Booth sighed, dejected. "I really can't."

Max took a step back, and the hand holding the stiletto dropped to his side. He picked up the discarded pen casing from the desk and expertly concealed the weapon, putting the pen in his shirt pocket. "Figure it out, Booth", he advised. "Soon. I'm not a patient man."

Booth nodded, and Max walked out of the office, whistling a jaunty tune.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

I love Max.

And I'm not sure what's next, so let me know if you have suggestions. (Yes, I'm still working on a sequel to Keep On Trying. That's a possibility - if it starts cooperating.)


	16. To Get Back To You

**Note:** A sequel to "Keep on Trying" … which was ages ago, so the quick recap is that Booth & Brennan tried a relationship after Parts in the Sum of the Whole, but broke up before they left for Afghanistan/Maluku Islands.

**What if: **Brennan found out she was pregnant while she was in the Maluku Islands?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

"Aarg." Daisy flopped onto the narrow camp cot, dramatically throwing her hand over her eyes. "I miss civilization."

"Hmm", Brennan grunted noncommittally from the next cot, having learned from experience that it was better not to engage when Daisy was feeling melodramatic.

It didn't work this time. Daisy sat up and demanded, "Doesn't it bother you?"

"I suppose I have more experience in primitive conditions", Brennan answered.

Daisy leaned forward to emphasize her point. "But isn't it a pain? Especially during … you know, that time of the month?" She whispered the last phrase, as if she were an embarrassed ten year old girl.

Brennan rolled over. "I'm very adaptable. Go to sleep, Miss Wick." Her face towards the outer wall of the tent, she mentally counted. This was the sixth week since she'd arrived, which meant ….

**BbB**

"Bren!" Angela waved madly from her vantage point just outside the exit from customs. Brennan smiled and waved back, dodging the other travelers until she reached her friend. Angela threw her arms around her friend and hugged her tight. "It's so good to see you. You're going to love our place – it's so sweet and tiny, and the light is amazing. Let's go, you can explain why you're here on the way."

Angela kept up a running commentary on the way to the car, and it wasn't until Brennan's small suitcase was safely stowed in the trunk and they were pulling out of the airport parking lot that she asked, "So? When are you going to tell me why you suddenly decided to come to Paris for a few days? Did they run out of old bones for you to look at?"

"No", Brennan answered. "I'm here to see a doctor. I'm fairly certain that I'm pregnant."

When she left Paris four days later, Brennan took with her a supply of pre-natal vitamins, the printout of an ultrasound, and the certainty that this was not the kind of news she should share with Booth while he was in a war zone.

**BbB**

"Bones!"

The football hit the ground with a thud as Parker took off, sprinting across the park to throw his arms around Brennan. Booth followed more slowly, wondering if his brain tumor was back and he was still in that army tent, a world away from a crisp fall morning in the park with his boy.

It's not like he hadn't dreamed about her – even _after_ he'd met Hannah.

Except in his dreams, she hadn't looked so … well, he wasn't sure exactly _what_ had changed, but she looked different somehow. Maybe she'd done something different with her hair?

He caught up to his son as he was peppering Brennan with questions - "Aren't you supposed to be in the jungle? What are you doing here?", "Did Dad tell you we were going to be here?", "Did you bring me anything? I hope it's a bone."

He met her eyes over his son's tousled head, and nodded. "Hi, Bones."

Her smile was a little shaky. "Hi", she answered.

He reached into his pocket and fished out some bills. "Here, Parks, go get some ice cream. Can you carry three cones?"

"'Course", Parker scoffed, and took off for the ice cream stand.

Brennan watched him run, a look on her face he couldn't read. Maybe the last 5 months had made him forget more than he'd thought he had.

"What happened to the caveman in the Macadamia Islands, Bones?", he asked quietly.

"I left early", she answered. "Can we sit down?"

She looked tired, and as they walked towards a nearby bench, he noticed she was moving more slowly than she had 5 months before.

They settled onto the bench, and he braced himself for the worst. "What's wrong, Bones? Are you sick? Is that why you left?"

"Not exactly", she answered, her attention focused on Parker, who was balancing three cones on his way back to them. "But I did come back so that I would be closer to medical care. I'm pregnant."

He stared, speechless, and before he could figure out what to say, Parker returned. The next few minutes were filled with Parker telling Brennan everything that had happened since she left – the narrow defeat of his little league team in the last game of the season, his week at sleep-away camp, the dead crab he found on his trip to Maine with Rebecca.

While his son talked, Booth's mind raced. When was she due? Was the baby his, or had she found someone else? It had to be his, right? Did she want him to be involved, or was she planning to raise the baby herself?

What was Hannah going to say?

**BbB**

The narrow army cot in his quarters on the base was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

His leave had gone by all to quickly. When he'd left for DC, he'd known he wouldn't want to come back, to leave Parker again, but it had been harder than he'd expected.

Of course, he hadn't expected to _see_ Bones, let alone learn that she was carrying his child.

He'd told Hannah – he'd had to, if he wanted any sort of a future with her – and he'd see the uncertainty in her eyes. She didn't want kids – he knew that – and he'd half expected her to dump him on the spot, but she hadn't.

At least not yet. She'd laughed and joked with him, just like always, but something about her was a little distant, as if she were already one step farther away from him.

**BbB**

Brennan gave birth in the comfort of her own home, Angela at her side.

Her daughter was perfect – 10 fingers, 10 toes, well within normal size and weight ranges, with a head covered in downy dark hair.

Booth was still in Afghanistan – it's not like he could just change his mind and come home – but she knew he'd be just as thrilled. He loved kids, and after the initial shock, he'd been openly happy about the baby.

Since he'd been gone, she'd faithfully sent him an e-mail once a week. She'd told him how big the baby was getting, talked about the nights when she wanted to sleep but the baby didn't, even sent him a picture of herself when he insisted.

She held the baby close as Angela used her laptop to send Booth a picture of their child.

**BbB**

The knock on her door came just as she was about to call it a night. She peered through the peephole, and then flung the door open.

"Booth!"

Despite everything that had happened between them, it was good to see him. Spontaneously, she threw her arms around him and hugged him close.

"Sorry to show up so late, Bones", he said. "I just couldn't wait until tomorrow."

She stepped back so he could enter he apartment, then closed the door behind him. "She's asleep", she answered, leading him down the hall. "So we'll have to be quiet."

They walked into her former guest room, which now sported a fanciful mural filled with frolicking animals. "Angela?" he asked, nodding at the mural.

"She insisted", Brennan replied. "It doesn't represent realistic animal behavior, but she insisted it had to be whimsical."

They reached the crib, and Booth got his first glimpse of his daughter. "Oh", he said, "She's beautiful."

"I agree", Brennan replied.

Booth ran one finger down the child's soft cheek. "I know she's probably got a strict schedule, but … can I hold her? Please, Bones?"

Over the past few months, Brennan had learned how important sleep was to Christine, and how miserable a day could be if she didn't sleep well, but she couldn't say no. She nodded, watching as Booth picked up the sleeping child and settled her against his chest. The baby yawned and stretched as Booth sat down in the rocking chair, then settled back to sleep.

Brennan stood watching them for a moment, then said, "I'm going to go to bed. I'll leave some blankets on the couch in case you want to stay."

Booth nodded, his gaze still on his daughter's sleeping face, and Brennan walked out of the room.

When the baby woke her at 6 AM, he was asleep on the couch. And even though it meant working through the challenges of raising a child together, with two homes and vastly different parenting styles, she was glad he was there.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb**

I'd love to hear what you think.


	17. A New Mourning

**Note:** This week's update is early, and brought to you due to a rescheduled flight. Also, I feel like the warning of character death should be obvious, but I'll warn you anyway.

And a note on the last one – a couple of people were upset that Booth was abandoning his child, which is unfair – he found out about the child while he was on leave from a war zone, and returned home after the child was born. He hasn't really had a chance to do _anything_ – and B/B certainly haven't had a chance to mend any fences.

**What if: **Brennan meant it when she said she wasn't going to go to Booth's next funeral?

**AU?** No

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

"Grandma Bones?"

At the sound of her name drifting up the stairs, Brennan looked up from her computer screen. She had work to do, and she certainly didn't have time for this. She hit the button to close her office door and turned her attention back to the work she was editing.

She sighed in frustration when she heard the knock on the door.

"I'm working", she called.

The door opened with a whoosh. As expected, her oldest granddaughter stood there, looking far more grown-up than usual in a somber black skirt and gray sweater, her blond hair pinned up.

"Grandma Bones." This time it was a statement, with more than a hint of impatience.

"Tell your father I'm not going", Brennan answered.

The teenager stalked towards her, hands on her hips. "He's at the airport. Aunt Chris's plane _finally_ landed. I'm in charge of getting you ready."

"I'm not going, Claire", Brennan repeated.

"OK", her favorite grandchild answered. "But if you don't go, I'm not allowed to tell you what universities I got into."

"All of the ones you applied to, I presume", Brennan answered. "Your applications were very strong."

"Can't talk about it. In fact, I might not even tell you which one I end up going to." The young woman sat down in an empty chair and leaned back, legs stretched out in front of her with her ankles crossed.

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Brennan turned her attention back to the computer.

"I could maybe tell you one", Claire mused. "If you put on something more suitable. Maybe that blue dress? Grandpa liked that one."

"I told your grandfather years ago that I wasn't going to go to his next funeral", Brennan answered. "I see no reason to change my mind now."

"Maybe I'll skip university. The world needs plumbers. Remember when I helped Grandpa fix that pipe downstairs and we flooded the basement?"

"That's hardly a recommendation of your plumbing skills", Brennan answered.

"I was five!" Claire's voice got higher in indignation, then she remembered the task at hand and spoke more calmly. "I've learned a lot since then."

Brennan turned back to her paper as Claire pulled out her phone and started to search. "Hmm", she said. "Looks like there's a good plumbing program at a school in Oregon."

She kept her focus on her phone, talking aloud as she started to fill out the application. She reached the end and looked up, "Hey, Grandma, can I borrow your credit card for the application fee? I'll pay you back."

Brennan glared at her. "You are_ not_ going to be a plumber. You've wanted to go into forensic science since you were three."

Claire shrugged. "Maybe I didn't get in to any of the programs I applied to."

"You did." There was just a hint of doubt behind Brennan's confident statement.

"So … the blue dress?"

Brennan pushed her chair back and stomped into the bedroom.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb**

I'd love to hear what you think.


	18. Just A Cup Of Coffee

**Note:** Post Doctor in the Photo, pre-Daredevil in the Mold

**What if: **Booth & Brennan ran into one of her one-night stands?

**AU?** Yes

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Of all the days for Bones's car to break down.

It had been ages since they'd driven to a crime scene together – too many broken dreams had made sitting together in a car uncomfortable at best – and he'd gotten used to having the car to himself. No one messing with his radio station, no lectures about his morning donut, no having to drive across town to the Jeffersonian.

No Bones, looking at him like he'd kicked her puppy.

But this morning, he'd been in the shower with Hannah when his phone rang, which meant that he didn't get the message for 20 minutes. _That_ meant that when Bones's car wouldn't start, he was the only one still around to give her a ride.

It wouldn't have been either of their first choices.

So here they were, making stilted conversation and wondering when they'd lost the friendship that had once been so strong.

There was a coffee place about a block ahead. They pulled near, and he spotted a free parking spot, almost directly in front of the door.

It was fate.

He signaled and pulled over, muttering "coffee" in response to her inquiring look.

As he was about to open his door, his cell phone rang. Rebecca.

Bones slid out as he picked up the phone, saying, "I'll get yours today". A second later, her door shut quietly behind her as he answered the phone.

Five minutes later, he'd worked out his weekend plans with Rebecca and he was on his way into the coffee shop, hoping he was in time to convince Bones to add a donut to his order.

His hand was on the handle of the door when he noticed the man standing next to her.

He really didn't want to go over there and listen to some doofus hitting on his partner, but he did want that donut. He opened the door and walked in, only noticing once he was inside the shop that she had a tray with two coffees in her hands. He started towards her, anyway.

And heard her laugh.

He loved Hannah. They lived together, Parker liked her, and they were building a life together.

But he … cared about Bones, too, and Lord knows she had poor taste in men.

He squared his shoulders and walked over. "Hey, Bones."

She started, obviously surprised to see him, even though she'd _known_ he was just outside. "Booth!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, then he deliberately held out his hand to the doofus. "Seeley Booth. I'm her partner."

"Kevin."

He nodded curtly. "You have a last name, Kevin?"

"Booth!" Bones was looking more than mildly annoyed. "You are _not_ running a background check on Kevin."

He pasted an innocent look on his face. "No idea what you're talking about, Bones."

She glared at him, then turned back to Kevin. "We have a case." She gestured at the door, as if the mere existence of a world outside the coffee shop proved her point. "It was good to see you again."

"You too", Kevin replied. "I'd really like to see you again, Temperance, but the ball is in your court. You have my number."

"Yes", Bones agreed. "Perhaps we can get together this weekend."

"I'd like that."

**BbB**

He kept _looking _at her, shooting her sidelong glances as he drove.

It was disconcerting.

When he'd come into the coffee shop, there had been an expression on his face she hadn't seen in over a year. She'd almost thought that he was going to pick Kevin up and throw him through the nearest window.

It had been a ridiculous thought. Obviously Booth wouldn't throw a complete stranger though a window.

Well, not unless the stranger was threatening him in some way.

Still, there had been something about him that radiated power. The last time she'd seen him act like that, she'd thought he was jealous, but that obviously wasn't the case. He'd moved on. He loved Hannah now.

"You know that guy?"

He didn't ask the question, so much as bark it at her. She looked at him, noticing his set jaw, the way his hands clenched the steering wheel.

"We've met before."

"You're dating him."

It wasn't a question, just a flat, emotionless statement.

"We went out once."

"Are you going to see him again?"

She turned away from him, focusing on the scenery going by, wondering how far they were from the crime scene. A moment went by before she answered. "Maybe."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Booth spoke again. "He just wants to get you into bed, you know."

"He already has." Her reply was quiet, but the vehicle jumped as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

"You _slept_ with him." His voice was low, almost a hiss, as he turned the vehicle onto the gravel path that led to the scene. She nodded in reply.

"Wow." He laughed bitterly. "He must be something special, to get you into bed on the first date."

The vehicle pulled to a stop and she opened the door. Before she got out, she looked at him one last time. "No", she answered. "He's no one special. That's why I _could_ sleep with him on the first date. There was nothing to lose." She slid out and the door clicked shut behind her.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb**

I shall again duck behind a large barricade.


	19. Danger Magnet

**Note:** Inspired by the following prompt at the latest comment fic at Bitesize Bones on LiveJournal:

Booth OR Brennan in some kind of jeopardy and the other must find them.. bonus points if one in danger helps save themselves!

**What if: **Caroline hadn't been able to reach Brennan?

**AU?** Yes

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Seeley Booth is a good man, a man who sees himself as a protector of those weaker than himself, so when I called him and told him Cam needed his help, I knew he'd charm his way out of that army commitment and get his sorry ass on a plane ASAP.

Besides, seven months was long enough to get over whatever sort of snit sent him halfway around the world.

When I talked to him, I told him Dr. Brennan was coming home, too. _Of course_ she was … even if I hadn't quite heard it from her, yet. Seven months was long enough to move past her fear of making a damn fool of herself, and I knew she wanted to see him as badly as he wanted to see her.

It was time for both of them to get over themselves and start populating the world with little squint/agent hybrids. Maybe they'd even name one of them after the brilliant prosecutor who brought them together.

Twice.

The rest of the team was already back and assembled in the conference room, exchanging hugs and stories, waiting for the dynamic duo to arrive, and soon Booth would walk through that door, his eyes scanning the room for the person who is home for him.

Except she wouldn't be there. I'd called Dr. Brennan three times a day for the last four days, and she hadn't yet returned my call. First they'd said she was working, then that she was "unavailable", and then they just stopped answering altogether.

I was starting to get concerned. If Dr. Brennan got the message I left, she'd call me back, even if she were in the middle of nowhere.

So why hadn't she called?

**BbB**

When Caroline had called, I knew I had to get back to DC. Cam and I have been friend forever, and if her job was on the line, I needed to be there to help.

And Bones was going to be there. I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. I really wanted to see her again, to make sure she was safe, but … there was Hannah, and I was afraid that I'd end up back in love with Bones and mess up the best relationship I'd had in years. I mean, Hannah could be _the one_. I could build a life with her, grow old with her. She loved me, and I loved her, which made spending all day every day with Bones …. scary. I'd have to learn to step back, to keep my distance.

Of course, for all I knew, Bones had spent her time in the Macaw Islands shacked up with some geeky doctor.

I nodded at the security guard and made my way down the hall to the conference room. I needed to start as I meant to go on – which meant focusing on Cam. She was the one I was here to help. I shrugged off my pack and tossed it on the ground beside the door, then walked over to Cam. It was so good to see her, and I hugged her a little tighter than normal. When I took a step back, I looked around the room for the first time, wondering whether Bones would be happy to see me, or whether she'd have that hurt-puppy expression she'd worn the last time we worked together.

I'd spent a lot of time wondering how I'd feel when I saw her again, but it never occurred to me that she wouldn't be there.

**BbB**

I was cold, achy, and I could my her heartbeat throbbing in my temples. I moved a little, enough to know that my wrists and ankles were tied together.

"Dr. Brennan?"

It was Daisy, whispering as if she were concerned that someone would hear her. I opened my eyes, but couldn't see anything – not the smallest sliver of light penetrated the darkness. The cold, the hard rock I was lying on, and the complete absence of light told me I was in a cave.

My bruises, the ropes digging in to my limbs, and quiver of fear in Daisy's voice told me I was in trouble.

**BbB**

I excused myself when Booth walked in, and tried calling Dr. Brennan one more time. Still no answer.

I slipped back into the conference room and waited for the ruckus to die down, then I looked Booth in the eye and told him I thought Dr. Brennan had stumbled into some sort of trouble.

Seconds later, the group exploded into a flurry of activity. Booth barked orders that sent Sweets scurrying to run background checks on the team Dr. Brennan was working with. Hodgins started checking in with some of his crazy-ass conspiracy theory groups to see if they'd heard any rumours coming out of the Maluku Islands. Angela started tapping away on her keyboard, doing something that was almost certainly illegal.

And I slipped out of the room to make a few phone calls. It pays to have friends in the State Department.

**BbB**

I'd estimate that it was three hours after I woke when I heard footsteps echoing through a nearby cavern. A moment later, I was blinded by bright lights.

There were six of them, dressed in militaristic clothing, each with a powerful assault weapon. I tried to study them, to figure out if I'd seen them before, but the headlamps they wore made it impossible to see their faces. The best I could do was a vague impression of their body types.

Daisy wasn't my only companion – now that there was light I could see Dr. Kapinski, Dr. Johnston, and Dr. Kumar, bound like I was, in varying states of consciousness.

Just the Americans, then.

Dr. Kapinski seemed to be the worse off, not even stirring when the light was shone directly on him.

The men walked from person to person, taking pictures of each of us. When they got to me, they pulled my shirt up far enough to get a picture of the ugly purple bruise on my abdomen.

It seemed like the pictures were all they wanted, because when they were done, they left us and the room was dark again.

**BbB**

He'd looked forward to being home, to hanging out with his son, to sleeping in his own bed. Instead, here he was, eight hours after his plane had landed, buckling himself into a cramped middle seat en route to the other side of the world.

He never should have let her go. Lord knows she had knack for attracting every serial killer and deranged lunatic in DC – it was crazy to think she'd be able to make it through a year in the jungle without getting into some sort of trouble.

And from the pieces they'd been able to put together, she was in serious trouble.

All he had to do was fly there and figure out how to get her out.

**BbB**

Approximately ten feet away from me, I'd seen a sharp-looking stalagmite. If I could get close enough, I could work on sawing through the ropes around my wrists.

The only problem was that a little farther away and just slightly to the left of the stalagmite was a drop-off, and I didn't know how far down it went. If I misjudged the direction, I could fall to my death.

In the dark, it was a big chance to take, but it might be the only chance we had. I lifted my hips and wriggled them a few inches in what I hoped was the right direction, then did the same with my shoulders.

**BbB**

The conference room table was littered with empty coffee cups, a donut box containing nothing but powdered sugar and a couple of pieces of peanuts, and a pizza box with one cold, stale piece of pizza. It was completely unappetizing – but then it hadn't been that good when it was fresh and warm.

Angela had refused to go home to sleep, and she lay curled up in a corner. Half the lights were off, and the rest of the group sprawled on chairs at the other end of the room.

All we could do but wait.

We'd heard from Booth when he'd landed and met up with some old army buddies, but that was sixteen hours ago, and there had been no word since.

I gave in and leaned forward, cradling my head in my arms, hoping a quick nap would give me some new ideas. I had barely closed my eyes when the phone rang.

**BbB**

I spotted them first – probably because I'd pushed my way to the front of the crowd. I jumped and waved, making an utter fool of myself, and Bren waved back, doing that little hand -up-by-the-shoulder-so-no-one-knows-you're-waving thing that she does. She looked like hell – rumpled clothes, black eye, almost too tired to stand – but she was alive, and she was home, and whatever she'd gone through, we were ready to help her through it.

Booth stood a couple of feet behind her – far enough back that he could pretend she was just another colleague, close enough to catch her if she fell.

Just like always.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb**

I know, I skipped the actual rescuing part. Use your imagination. :)


	20. The Bodyguard

**Note:** I have company. For three weeks. Updates will be sporadic at best.

**What if: **Booth's gambling problem had made it impossible for him to join the FBI?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

"Ah, Dr. Brennan." Dr. Goodman gestured at the guest chair in his office. "Have a seat."

Brennan sat, perching on the edge of the chair. "What is it, Dr. Goodman?"

Goodman leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers touching. "It has been brought to my attention that you are receiving death threats as a result of your planned excursion to Guatemala."

"What? No."

One eyebrow raised. "Did you not receive a letter in yesterday's mail from someone who said – and I quote – 'Cancel your trip or you won't live to regret it?'"

Brennan folded her arms across her chest defensively. "Well, yes."

"And a threatening phone call two days ago?"

"Yes. But I hardly think someone would try to kill me for doing my job."

"I'd like you to cancel your trip."

Brennan shook her head vehemently. "No. I can't do that, sir."

"Very well. In that case, the Jeffersonian will arrange for the appropriate security."

"But ..."

"You _will _cooperate. If you do not, your leave will be revoked and you will not go to Guatemala."

Brennan's lips thinned. "Is that all?"

"For now. I will arrange for your security team to be in touch before noon."

**BbB**

"Excuse me." Brennan's voice was frosty as she glared at the interloper sitting in her chair, feet up on the desk.

He grinned at her and swung his feet to the floor. "You must be Dr. Brennan." He stood and held out his hand. "Tim Sullivan. You can call me Sully. I'm the day shift."

"Day shift?"

"Yeah", Sully answered. "Security team? You were supposed to be informed. I stick with you from 7 am to 7 pm, then the boss takes over for the night shift. So until 7 tonight, just consider me your shadow. Where you go, I go. Don't worry, you'll hardly know I"m here."

"That seems unlikely."

Sully laughed. "I'll do my best to stay out of your way."

**BbB**

Booth followed the security guard through the dark lab.

It was futuristic, filled with strange machines and gleaming steel, the kind of place where you'd expect to find some guy in a spacesuit perform an autopsy on a little green alien.

They walked towards a glass-walled office. The shades were drawn, but he could see light spilling out through the edges. He could hear the rumble of Sully's voice, and the answering feminine laughter. The security guard knocked on the door, and Sully answered. "Hey, boss."

"Sull."

Sully stepped back to allow him to enter the office. She sat on the couch, hair up in a pony tail, wearing a blue lab coat, black slacks, and some extremely ugly shoes. Sully nodded at him. "Bren, this is Booth. Booth, Dr. Brennan."

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Brennan."

"Yes, I'd imagine it is."

Sully couldn't quite mask his grin. "Well, see you in the morning. Have a good night."

**BbB**

He would have preferred to do the driving, but she was the client, so when she made it clear she wanted to drive, he gave in.

He was on full alert once they parked, and they couldn't get into the building fast enough to suit him. Once he'd checked out her apartment, closed the blinds, and locked the door securely, he was able to drop his guard just a little.

Her fridge was empty – if you didn't count some old hot sauce packets, a few apples, and a bag of carrots – so they ordered in. While they waited for the food to arrive, she disappeared into the office while he sat on the couch and leafed through magazines that he couldn't begin to understand.

The doorbell rang, and he yelled for her to stay back while he answered the door.

Naturally, she didn't listen, which led to an all-out fight while the food got cold. The fight ended when she grabbed one of the containers of food off the coffee table and stomped off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

He spent the night on the couch, wishing she had a TV.

**BbB**

The pattern was the same for the next few evenings. He'd meet up with her and Sully – at the lab, outside her karate class, at the firing range - and find her laughing and happy. As soon as he arrived, he could see her become more aloof, more reserved.

It made him want to get under her skin.

But he was there to do a job, and it was more important that he keep her safe than that he make her laugh.

**BbB**

He met them at the lab on Thursday. She was actually ready to go, so they all walked out together – Sully on his way to … wherever he was going, Booth and Brennan en route to her apartment. They were three steps out of the door on the way to the parking garage when he heard a shot. He dove towards Brennan, knocking her to the ground. Sully pulled his weapon and ducked behind one of the pillars.

There was no second shot, just an old car, limping out of the structure.

**BbB**

On Saturday, he couldn't face the thought of another evening spent on her couch while she worked. He hunted her down in her office and asked what she normally did for fun. She looked uncomfortable at the question, finally answering, "My work keeps me very busy."

"What, bones?", he answered. "It's Saturday night. Don't you ever go to a movie or go dancing? Play mini-golf or poker? Something just for fun?"

From the look on her face, it was clear that she didn't.

"Come on", he said. "We're going out."

**BbB**

An hour later, they were racing go-karts. He'd called in a couple of his men to help reduce the risk of being in such a public location, and they were shouting encouragement from the sidelines as she threw caution to the wind, pushing the cart to its limits as she sped around the course. It took everything he had to keep up. When they tumbled out of the carts, they were both laughing with exhilaration.

They moved to the rock climbing wall, and again she led the way, even trying some awkward trash-talk as she made it to the bell at the top of the wall seconds before he did.

They ate funnel cake and too-greasy fries, then sat on a bench and ate ice cream cones as the sun set.

When it got late, he sent his men home and they drove contentedly through the dark streets.

As soon as they walked through the door of her apartment, the spell was broken. She disappeared into the bedroom, and he flopped down on the couch.

**BbB**

Over the next week, they started eating together. She told him stories about her job, and he could see why she was so good at what she did. He told her about his decision to start his own business. She talked about her trips to Tibet and Guatemala. He talked about his time in the army.

She wasn't his usual type, but he really liked her.

Not that he could do anything about it, since he was still her body guard.

And then, one night, she kissed him, and asked him to join her in her bedroom.

Saying no was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

**BbB**

"Boss?"

"Ugh", Booth grunted, still half-asleep.

"Is there something I should know about you and Bren?"

"What?" Booth sat up in bed, the covers pooling at his waist. "No."

"OK", Sully said doubtfully. "I'm just wondering because she's said no the last seventeen times this squint she works with asked her out, and today she said yes. Might want to wear a suit tonight so you fit in at the restaurant."

**BbB**

He sat at the table, his best female bodyguard across from him, and wondered how they could justify charging $34 for a tiny serving of mediocre pasta.

Lily, like him, was able to make small talk while staying aware of her surroundings, and they chatted as they kept their eyes open for any threats towards the woman sitting three tables away.

She looked like she was having fun, laughing and playing with her hair. The poor squint probably thought he'd be taking her home tonight.

**BbB**

Booth managed to time it so that he and Lily left the restaurant about thirty seconds before Brennan and the physicist. They lingered outside the door, pretending to have a hard time saying goodnight. When Brennan and her date walked towards the parking lot, they followed, appearing to anyone looking to be focused only on each other.

A car drove by, and out of the corner of his eye, Booth noticed the headlights glance off a piece of metal.

He started to run before he consciously realized it was a gun.

He could hear Lily taking control of the scene as the bullet knocked him to the ground.

**BbB**

By the time he could breath normally again, he could hear sirens in the distance. Lily had pushed Brennan back inside the restaurant, so he picked himself up off the pavement and went to join them.

It took a couple of hours to answer the officers' questions. Brennan's date pulled her off to the side after he talked to them, then took off, leaving her sitting in a chair near the door. When he finished talking to the police, he walked over.

"Hey." He crouched down beside her chair. "How are you doing?"

"I find that the adrenalin has worn off, and I'm extremely tired. It's to be expected."

He covered her hand with his. "You're going to be fine."

Her chin went up defiantly. "Of course. There is no reason why I wouldn't be. However, I would imagine you'll be sore for a few weeks. I expect you have a couple of bruised ribs."

"I've had worse."

"You're lucky you were wearing a bullet-proof vest."

He shrugged. "In my line of work, it pays to be prepared for anything."

**BbB**

Sully followed Brennan into the conference room. Booth was already at the table, along with the detective from the local police.

Booth spoke first. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

The detective leaned forward. "We want to catch this guy."

"If by 'this guy" you mean the person or persons who are trying to kill me, I want to catch him, too."

"We have a plan, but we'll need your cooperation."

**BbB**

Sully and Brennan walked into the hotel. She had a scarf over her hair and was wearing big sunglasses, in an obvious attempt to avoid recognition. He kept his hand on her back, and tried to rush the check-in process along.

They got their room key and made their way up to the fifth floor. Five minutes later, Sully walked through the lobby, whistling a catchy tune.

**BbB**

The door to room 714 opened, and Brennan sat up in bed.

"Hey."

At the sound of Booth's voice, she turned on the bedside lamp. "You're bleeding."

Booth looked down at his stained shirt. "It's not mine."

"So?"

"We got him." He smiled.

She laughed in response. "So that's it? I get my life back."

"That's it", he confirmed. "There's just one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?"

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Thoughts?


	21. Splinters

**Note:** I really need more ideas. Especially happy ones. Or outlandish ones.

**What if: **Brennan decided Booth's rejection meant it was time to move on?

**AU?** Yes

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Her thumb was sore.

Brennan stopped typing and examined her thumb. It was red and inflamed, and as she squinted at it, she could see a tiny splinter embedded in the wound. She poked at it, then pulled open the drawer of her desk, rummaging through the contents hoping to find something that would help her extract the sliver of wood.

"You'd better be looking for chocolate."

"No", Brennan responded absently.

Angela walked in and flopped down in an empty chair. "Then I fail to understand what you're looking for so frantically."

"I have a splinter", Brennan answered. "I didn't notice it earlier, and it's infected."

"There's a first aid kit in the lounge", Angela answered. "I'll walk with you."

They left Brennan's office, chatting about their latest case on the way. When they reached the lounge, Brennan made quick work of her splinter, cleaning the wound and wrapping it in a protective bandage.

"It's funny", she said. "It's a tiny piece of wood – I didn't even notice it until it got infected – but it really hurts. It's the body's way of protecting us, of getting the foreign object out. Now that it's out, I should heal quickly."

"Yes", Angela agreed. "That's how it works." There was a question in her voice.

"But sometimes", Brennan/ continued, "It doesn't work. Infection can kill as well."

"I've never heard of someone dying from a splinter", Angela commented.

"I'm thinking of leaving Booth", Brennan replied, as if that had been the subject all along.

"_What?_", Angela answered, grabbing Brennan's hand and pulling her over to one of the couches. "OK, sweetie, spill. What's going on?"

Brennan raised her head to meet her friend's eyes. "I'm not happy. No, more than that, I'm unhappy. I feel … uncomfortable around Booth, like I'm waiting for him to hurt me again. It's not good for me, or for him, or for Christine. She's been moody and anxious lately – the tension is affecting her, even though she's so small. That's not right, Angela. She shouldn't have to pay for my mistakes."

"Have you talked to Booth?" Angela asked.

**BbB**

"Hey, big guy."

Booth grunted in reply as Cam slid onto the bar stool next to him.

"You want to talk about why Dr. Brennan is off looking at real estate?"

Booth glared at her, and she retreated. "OK, let's talk about something else. Why did you call of the wedding again?"

Booth slammed his glass onto the bar. "Why. Are. You. Here."

Cam smiled as the bartender slid her beer across the bar. "I'm here because I'm your friend, Seeley, and I don't know what happened, but I know this has to be killing you."

"I can't believe she doesn't trust me", Booth mused.

"A long time ago", Cam answered, "I told you that if you told Dr. Brennan you loved her and you changed your mind, she'd never trust anyone again. And then? You told her you loved her, you told her you wanted to marry her, and then you decided you … didn't. And now she doesn't trust you. I hate to say I told you so, but what did you think was going to happen?"

"I don't know." Booth's voice was broken, defeated.

Cam covered his hand with hers. "What's going on, Seeley?"

"Nothing", Booth answered, unconvincingly.

She swiveled on her stool so that she could look him in the eye. "When you're ready to stop pretending nothing is wrong? You know you can talk to me."

He nodded, and she tossed a bill onto the bar and walked out of the bar.

**BbB**

The real estate agent waved as she drove off. Brennan stood for a moment, looking at the exterior of the house, the well-kept yard, imagining what life would be like if this were the place she came home to every night.

It was a beautiful house, just three blocks from the house she shared with Booth. Christine would be able to go back and forth between their houses without having to live far from her friends or her school. The house had everything she wanted.

Except Booth.

Max came up beside her, following her gaze to the house. "It's nice."

"Yes", she agreed.

"You know", Max said, "Once I thought it was easier to run. And it was, for me. But it hurt you, and Russ. And your mother … she never got over leaving you behind."

They stood in silence for a moment, then he added, "I still believe it was the right thing to do."

"I understand. You were trying to protect us."

"I was", Max replied. "And I'd do it again, if I had to. So I guess my question to you is … do you have to leave? Or do you have choices that I didn't have?"

"Dad ..." There was a warning in her voice.

"Just think about it." He kissed her cheek, then walked away, whistling.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

I know, it's vague and doesn't end happily. I'm not kidding about needing happy ideas.


	22. Oh, There's Magic

**Note:** Thank you for all of the awesome ideas … none of which I'm using this week, but some of which will show up in the future. I appreciate all of the suggestions and they're all on my list, some just take a little longer to make their way into a story. Feel free to keep them coming!

And now for something completely different, and yet mostly the same.

**What if: **there was such a thing as magic?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

I was a happy kid, for the most part. I loved my parents, and they loved me. Yeah, Mom seemed to get hurt a lot and Dad fell asleep on the couch long before I had to go to bed, but when I was little, I just thought that's how everybody lived. It wasn't until I was eight and got sick in the middle of the night that I realized that Dad was the reason Mom always had a limp or a bruise or a pinched look on her face.

I was nine when he hit me for the first time. Mom was working late, and I knocked over a glass of milk.

The next day, I was the one walking with a limp.

It became a regular thing – make a minor mistake, get the shit kicked out of me – and it was almost a relief when Pops found out. He bundled Jared and me into the back of his station wagon and took us to that magical house where he lived with Grams.

And it was magical. The air hummed with electricity, colors were brighter, and I found myself singing while I got ready for school.

It was like living in a Disney cartoon.

I still saw Mom and Dad. They came for Sunday dinner every week, and Mom made a point of doing something with me and Jared during the week. I took dancing lessons with her, and she and Jared did an art class. I'm pretty sure I enjoyed the dancing more than Jared did the art.

It was bittersweet. I was happy to see her, but I couldn't understand why she chose Dad over me and Jared.

I still don't really get it.

As conflicted as I was about my parents, I had no confusion at all when it came to Pops and Grams. They saved me, and I would have done anything for them. Grams would make my lunch, often with a little note that I never let my friends read. Pops let me help him fix his old car, and even took me out on a deserted little country road and let me drive it long before I should have been behind the wheel.

And on my twelfth birthday, Pops sat me down and gave me the talk.

Not about sex – we'd already had several talks about that, and I understood the mechanics, if not the emotional baggage that went along with it – but the other talk, the one everyone in my family got when they turned twelve.

The talk about magic.

Don't get me wrong – no one was huddled around a cauldron, pouring in eye of newt or hair of bat. I'm not even sure what a newt is. We didn't ride broomsticks or speak nonsense while we waved around sticks. That wasn't how it worked.

What we had was different. The way Pops explained it, we each would meet someone special, and when we did, we'd be able to do things we couldn't do on our own.

The cynic I was at twelve thought he was talking about love, but that's not what he meant. It wasn't about soul mates or romance. It was a connection, and that connection unlocked abilities that we didn't even know we had.

For Pops, Grams was the one, which is why their house always seemed so special. Having her around made him stronger – not just mentally, but physically. He walked like he was twenty-two, even though he was more than double that. It also gave him limited telekenesis, which explained why he never got his slippers wet when he went out to get the paper on a rainy day.

For my Dad, his person was his best friend, James. They met in high school and became fast friends.. James was the best man at my parents' wedding. And when Dad went to Vietnam, James was right there with him.

Except James didn't come home.

Based on some of the shouting I'd heard in the middle of the night back when I still lived with my parents, I suspected visions had been one of the gifts Dad was burdened with.

My Aunt Sue's person was her business partner, Chris. Sue had struggled as a young adult – a troubled marriage, job loss, bankruptcy – but when she teamed up with Chris, everything changed. The business took off, became bigger than she'd dared to dream. She met Uncle Martin, and they built a happy life together.

After that talk with Pops, I fully believed that I'd meet someone, and it would happen for me, too. All throughout high school, I expected my person to be right around the corner.

It didn't happen.

I joined the army, still with the thought that one day I'd meet that one person and feel a click as the magic woke within me.

It still didn't happen.

I met Rebecca once I was back on American soil. I really liked her, even thought I wanted to marry her. I would have, if she had said yes. She wasn't the one who'd unlock the magic, but that was OK – finding that connection in a romantic relationship was rare.

I was still in the army then, going to school part time, playing pool every weekend. I didn't even tell her what Pops had told me so long ago. I figured she'd think I was crazy. Looking back, that was probably a sign I shouldn't marry her, but at the time, all I knew was that I loved her. When she said no, it hit me hard.

By the time Parker was born, I'd pretty much given up on magic. Let's face it, it's a big world. What are the odds that I'd meet the one person who could unlock it?

And then, one day, I walked into a lecture on removing flesh from bones, and I felt a surge of electricity go through me.

It was just like being home with Pops and Grams, back when Grams was still alive.

**BbB**

I was on _fire_ during that first case. Somehow, I knew just what to say, just what to do, even though the electrical surge that was going through me was like nothing I'd ever felt before. The world seemed brighter, I could focus better than ever before, and some of the pieces of the puzzle slid into place much easier than usual.

And then there was her. Bones. She was so good at her job that she made me want to be better at mine, and it was clear that she cared deeply about the murder of a girl she'd never met.

I liked her, and I wanted her, and I was afraid of messing everything up.

Caroline insisted that I fire her, which I did – after way too much tequila. She didn't seem upset. On the contrary, she invited me to go home with her.

No way was I saying no.

And then she kissed me and left me standing in the rain. When her taxi turned the corner, the charge that was running through me dropped, just a little, and I considered going back inside, maybe playing some pool.

I decided against it. After being around her, gambling lost its luster. I went home alone and fell asleep on the couch.

I woke up, sure that she was somewhere dangerous, in a pit full of bodies. It was terrifying, but when I called the Jeffersonian, she was at her desk.

Caroline changed her mind, and I convinced Bones to help me again. The electricity surged within me again, and between the two of us, we got the killer.

There was a price, though, and she refused to talk to me again, even told her assistant to stonewall me.

And two, maybe three, times a week, I woke with a picture of her in my head. Sometimes, she was in the pit again. Sometimes she was at that space station she calls a lab. A few times, she was naked, in bed with some jackass.

I would have preferred the pit.

I missed her, and I missed that tingling awareness of the magic in the universe, and I didn't know how to fix things.

And then the energy that had been flowing through me died down so much I thought it might have stopped, and I got a notice that she had left the country and flown to Guatemala.

She was gone for two months, and my sources told me she was identifying victims of genocide. The dreams about the pit stopped, and so did the dreams of her with the jackass. In their place, I started dreaming about sitting across from her at Wong Fu's, holding my weapon on some guy bleeding from a gunshot to the leg, sitting at a bar knowing I was missing my flight to Jamaica.

I could tell the second her plane landed. I could feel every cell of my body wake up in response, I called in a 'hold for questioning' request to Homeland Security and went to pick her up at the airport.

That might have been a mistake.

I was determined, though. I _needed_ her to be part of my life, and I was willing to do whatever it would take to make that happen. I promised her full partnership in the case, left her at the lab, and … went home to Tessa.

Yeah, I know, but the thing is, I didn't need Bones to be my lover. I just needed her to be part of my life, and if adding sex would mess that up, I was willing to make sure that sex would never be part of the picture.

Having her back – not just in DC but in my life – made the dreams stronger, and I developed a foolproof ability to tell when someone was lying. No, it wasn't just an unconscious ability to read body language and other physiological indicators – it was magic, and it was _incredible._ Between Bones's brains and my ability to read people, my solve rate went way up. I got an office and a promotion, and I got to see Bones whenever I wanted.

And then I started dreaming of a warehouse, with dogs snarling in the background; Bones beside a marble grave marker; and a boat, improbably named "The Temperance".

Time went on and we grew closer, but not _too _close. I kept a distance, told her we shouldn't cross that line, and she understood. I think we'd both come to value our friendship too much to risk it on an affair that would probably burn too hot to last.

I dreamed of mistletoe, and teeth used as shrapnel, and Bones dancing and singing on a stage; of Bones peering at me through some ridiculous glasses and a body in a vat of wine; of the bright lights of an operating room and Sweets slumping back into his chair.

As it happened – because my dreams were nothing more than glimpses of the future – I felt that buzz, that heightened awareness of the universe and my place in it.

At least until the dreams stopped, except for that final scene – Sweets, slumping back in his chair. It was almost like there _was _no future after that – but that didn't make sense.

And then that happened, too, because I'd failed to keep my distance, to stop myself from falling in love with her. I gambled, and I lost.

That night, I dreamed of Bones, holding a giggling little girl.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

Thoughts?


	23. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Note: **It's a short one this week.

**What if: **Christine asked about the names Booth and Brennan call each other?

**AU?** No

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Brennan buckled Christine into her car seat and slid behind the wheel. As she pulled into the line of parents waiting to leave the parking lot, she asked, "How was school today, Christine?"

"Good", her daughter answered apathetically, staring out the window.

At the uncharacteristically brief answer, Brennan stretched a little to check out her child's reflection in the rear view mirror.

"Just good?", she asked.

"We talked about names. We all had to tell what our names are, and what our mom and dad's names are. And then", she continued, her voice getting louder in indignation, "Mrs. Schroeder said that I was wrong!"

"She didn't think you knew your name?", Brennan asked.

"No!" Another quick glance told her her daughter was no longer slumped over, but was sitting straight up, her small hands clenched into fists. "She said that your name wasn't Bones and Daddy's name wasn't Booth."

Brennan pulled to a stop in the driveway and opened the door for Christine to hop out, backpack in hand. As they walked into the house, Brennan explained, "Well, Christine, perhaps she was asking about our first names."

"She _said_", Christine said as she stomped into the house, a picture of the petulant teenager she would one day be, "that we were supposed to say the names that our parents called each other, but then she said I was _wrong_."

Brennan followed her daughter into the house, automatically stepping over the abandoned backpack and shoes in the middle of the hall. Christine was slumped on the couch, arms crossed defiantly in front of her. Brennan sat down on the other end of the couch and turned toward her daughter.

"What's your name, Christine?"

"Christine", her daughter scoffed.

"Your whole name."

"Christine Angela Booth."

"That's right", Brennan answered. "Your last name is Booth, just like your father and Parker."

"But you call Daddy Booth", Christine replied.

"Yes", Brennan said, searching for the right words. "Your father and I worked together long before we had you, and when we worked together, I called him Booth. That's his last name, not his first name. His first name is Seeley."

"Oh", Christine pouted, kicking her feet against the front of the couch.

"My name", Brennan continued, "Is Temperance Brennan. When we first met, your father decided to call me Bones, because I work with bones. It used to drive me crazy – I didn't think he was being respectful."

"Daddy is respectful."

Brennan smiled. "I used to think he was laughing at me, but now I like it when your father or Parker call me Bones. It makes me feel special."

"Can I call you Bones?", Christine asked.

"No", Brennan answered, leaning forward to hug her daughter. "You call me Mom, and that's even more special."

As her mother walked away, Christine's lips curved in a tiny smile.

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

I first typed "parking lot" as "parking log". I don't know that that means.


	24. Better Wrong Than Right

**Note:** Inspired by the prompt "People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right."

**What if: **Brennan had said something before Booth moved in with Hannah?

**AU?** Yes

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

They drove in silence.

That was the norm now, an uncomfortable silence where they used to talk for hours about things they couldn't talk about any other time.

Things had been strained before they'd each committed to a year apart, but the time apart had increased the figurative distance as well as the literal one. His new relationship had driven the nail into the coffin of their easy comradery.

As the miles passed by, she wondered whether she should speak up. What was the social convention in this situation? Should she say something, or had she given up the right to do so?

She wasn't as stealthy as she thought, so after her fourteenth subtle glance at him, he snapped, "What?"

She bit her lip as she pondered whether to claim she had nothing to say. She didn't want to lose what remained of their friendship – if there was even anything left to save. She waited just a second too long before she quietly said, "I understand you and Hannah are moving in together."

"That's right", he replied. "We are." His tone didn't encourage discussion.

"Oh."

They drove in silence for another mile as she warred with herself. "It's not uncommon for people who meet in a war zone to form close attachments."

"Mmm hmm." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, as if total concentration on the road would get them back to the city faster.

"It's just ..." She paused, took a deep breath. "Those attachments are very powerful in the moment, but they often don't survive the return to a more … normal way of life."

His jaw tightened. "Well, I guess I'm one of the lucky ones, because we're back on American soil and Hannah and I are doing great."

Brennan nodded, her attention carefully focused on the view out of the passenger side window. They drove for a few more miles, before she said quietly, "It's just very fast, and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Right."He was angrier than he could ever remember being. "Maybe I should wait six years, tell her how I feel, and let her reject me then. That won't hurt at all."

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive, and the next time they had a case, she drove herself.

**BbB**

Months later, she walked into a bar.

Hannah had called, told her what had happened, and she knew he needed a friend.

Even her.

He was at the bar, several empty glasses in front of him, looking as dejected as she'd ever seen him. She slid onto a stool, and asked, "You drunk?'

He didn't want to talk about what had happened, and, to be honest, neither did she. She should have been able to keep him from being hurt, should have known what to say to convince him to take it slow.

She should have said yes, all of those months ago.

He was hurt that he'd been rejected, and angry – mad that Hannah had said no, that he wasn't going to get the life he wanted. More than that, he was angry with _her_ – for planting the idea in his head that his relationship with Hannah might not work out, for not convincing him to take it slow, for breaking down and telling him she regretted saying no.

He dared her to leave, offered to get her a new FBI guy, told her that if she stayed, all they'd ever be was partners. He gave her a clear choice – take a drink and stay partners, or leave and sever their partnership.

He knew she wanted more, but more was off the table.

Leaving would have been the rational decision, a way to cut her losses, to protect herself from being hurt again.

But she stayed and took a drink.

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Thoughts?


	25. A Second Too Late

**What if: **Booth hadn't taken that bullet?

**AU?** Yes

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She looked happier than he could ever remember seeing her, all smiles as she jumped around on stage, belting out the words to the song that had once been her favorite.

She was a pretty good singer, too. Not that he should have been surprised. After all, Bones was good at _everything_.

They should have done something this frivolous years ago.

It wasn't until her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the stage that he realized that sound he'd heard was a gunshot. His hand went to his weapon and he turned, looking for the threat, doing what he had been trained to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cam, staying low, heading for Bones.

At the back of the room was that crazy lady – Pam? - gun in hand, looking a little stunned and a whole lot smug. He steadied his hand, barking out, "Drop the gun."

"I did it for you, Seeley", she answered in that too-sweet voice.

"What?", he asked, trying to keep her talking, keep the situation from getting worse.

"Now we can be together. I saw how you looked at her, but she's not in our way anymore."

"Drop the gun", he repeated, past trying to make sense of whatever was going on in her head. That would be something for Sweets to sort out later, after Bones was OK.

"I would never hurt you", she said, oblivious to the fact that he was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating when Bones collapsed.

Sweets was on the floor, cell phone in hand, talking with the 911 operator. The kid sounded terrified, and Booth wanted – _needed - _to get back to Bones.

"Drop the weapon", he snapped "_Now_. I am a federal agent and I am _ordering _ you to drop your weapon and keep your hands where I can see them."

"Why are you being so mean to me?", Pam whined "I just want us to be together." Her hand tightened on the gun. "Were you just leading me on?"

She raised the gun. "That's a horrible thing to do. I thought you loved me, Seeley." The gun steadied, and the look on her face changed, hardened.

Booth pulled the trigger.

**BbB**

Cam was hunched over Bones, applying pressure, trying to stop the bleeding. Angela was surprisingly good in a crisis, and was holding Brennan's left hand, talking to her about weekend plans and some trip to Italy she was always trying to convince Brennan to go on. Booth pushed his way toward Bones and then hovered anxiously around her head, not sure what to do.

When the ambulance arrived, the EMTs surrounded Bones, pushing him out of the way, and then the local cops arrived. When the EMTs wheeled her out, he was still busy answering questions and making a statement.

The squints were gone by the time the cops finished with him but Sweets was still there, waiting patiently at a table by the door. He was surprisingly quiet en route to the hospital, leaving Booth with the picture of Bones, unnaturally still and covered in blood, for company.

Booth jumped out before the vehicle pulled to a stop, ducking around wheel chairs and patients on his way into the ER, frantic to get to her.

"Seeley"

He stopped, turned, and there was Cam, shirt splattered with blood, looking so sympathetic that he _knew_ Bones hadn't made it.

He swayed, and Cam pushed him none-too-gently into a chair, shoving his head down between his knees. "Breathe, big guy. You aren't going to be any good to her if you pass out."

He pulled away, sat up. "She's OK? Can I see her?"

Cam was already shaking her head. "She's in surgery. No news is good news, though. We called Max, he's on his way."

He slumped in the chair. "Max is going to kill me."

"He's not."

Booth laughed bitterly. "Right."

"He's not", Cam repeated. "First of all, this wasn't your fault, and secondly, Brennan would kick his ass."

"If she lives", Booth said quietly.

"She's going to live", Cam answered.

"Is that your medical opinion?"

He knew from the way she didn't quite meet his eyes that it wasn't.

**BbB**

She was cold, and her hands didn't seem to work properly.

Somewhere near by, she could hear people talking – male voices mixed with female. She could smell antiseptic, hear the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum. There was a pain in her chest, an ache she couldn't remember feeling before. Was she hurt?

"Booth?", she called, her voice raspy and far quieter than she'd intended.

"Dr. Brennan."

Brennan opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light, and the man standing over her awkwardly pulled up a chair. Her eyes adjusted, and she recognized him as Booth's boss.

"We need you to do us a favor", he continued.

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Thoughts?


	26. Keeping Time

**Note: **On Thursday, I thought "It's a long weekend, maybe I'll get two chapters done." That didn't come close to happening.

A follow-up to "A Second Too Late".

**What if: **Brennan had faked her death?

**AU?** Yes

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He couldn't sit still.

He paced the dreary waiting room – 12 steps, turn, 12 steps, turn – in a futile quest to feel like he was doing something. Angela was stretched across three plastic chairs, her head in Hodgins's lap, pretending to doze. Cam was sitting up, her head back and leaning against the wall behind her. Sweets leaned forward, his forearms on his legs, still looking shell-shocked. Max, who had arrived and, after charming the triage nurse, promptly gone to the cafeteria to pick up coffee for everyone, was the only one who seemed to feel as tense, as anxious to be anywhere else, as he was.

He couldn't leave, so he was pacing.

As he had been for the past … he found the clock on the wall, did the math … six hours.

"Shouldn't she be out of surgery by now?"

His voice cracked, rusty from disuse, and Cam lifted her head, stared at the same clock he'd just consulted. She met his eyes, and he saw her square her shoulders. "It depends on what they found, Seeley."

"In your medical opinion, _Camille_", he rephrased, "Wouldn't we have heard by now if she was out of surgery?"

"I would have thought so, yes", she answered. "But ..."

The door to the room opened, and a tired-looking woman in scrubs consulted the chart in her hand. "Max Keenan?"

They turned en masse to look at her. "Coffee!", Sweets exclaimed.

Hodgins shot him a glare. "He's gone to get coffee", he explained. "But we're all here for Temperance Brennan as well."

The woman nodded at the triage nurse. "When Mr. Keenan returns, can you have Joanne page Dr. Schmidt? Thank you."

Booth took two steps and wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Is she OK? When can we see her?"

The doctor's face was sympathetic as she pried his hand from her wrist. "Just tell Mr. Keenan to page me."

**BbB**

Were those birds _deliberately_ trying to piss him off?

Booth cracked open his eyes, only to shut them immediately. The blinding light through the crack in the blinds made his head throb even more. He pushed himself into a seated position, trying not to vomit.

There was a soft knock at the door, and he growled, "What?"

Cam walked in and handed him a glass of water, shook two painkillers into his hand. "Here."

He stared at her, feeling dread pool in his gut. "Why are you here?"

She sat down beside him on the bed and placed her hand over his. "I drove you home from the hospital, and when you decided to crawl into the bottle of scotch I didn't think it was safe to leave you alone."

At her words, it all came crashing back – Max, sagging into a chair, Angela sobbing, Sweets muttering "no"; the nurse, saying "Sorry sir, family only", as she led Max deeper into the hospital to see Bones; Cam, confiscating his weapon and manhandling him into the car.

**BbB**

The second time she woke, she heard low voices, not far away.

"Booth?", she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again. "Booth?"

Her father walked back into the room, a huge smile on his face. "Honey! I'm so glad you're all right."

Brennan peered around him, expecting – _needing_ – to see Booth. "Where's Booth? Is he OK?"

Max sat down, patted her hand. "He's fine. You're the one we've been worried about."

She tried to sit up, only to slump back down when her muscles didn't want to work the way they should. As she steeled herself for a second attempt, she asked, "Why isn't Booth here?"

"I'm sure he's on his way", Max answered, pressing the button that released the pain medication. "Now rest, Tempe. You won't get better if you over-do it."

**BbB**

He didn't go to work. He couldn't face the hushed silences, the stilted sympathy, so he called in sick.

It wasn't a lie – he'd never felt worse in his life.

Why had they wasted so much time?

**BbB**

She woke again.

Max was slumped over in a chair, and Booth was still not there.

She pressed the call button. When the nurse came in, she said, "I need to talk to the Assistant Director of the FBI."

The nurse popped a thermometer in her ear, replying, "Mmm hmm."

Brennan pulled her head away and turned her head to meet the nurse's eye. "You can tell the Assistant Director of the FBI that if he's not in my room in one hour, I will have my agent release a statement to the press."

The nurse turned and bustled out of the room, her rubber-soled shoe squeaking on the vinyl floor.

**BbB**

Booth's cell phone rang.

Again.

He'd called in sick, there was no reason for his boss to be trying to reach him over and over again. He turned up the volume on the TV, pretending he cared about the rerun of the most boring golf game ever played.

When there was a knock at the door, he wished he had his weapon back. At the second knock, he threw the remote down and stomped to the door, slammed it open.

"What?"

His boss stood there, with _his_ boss standing silently behind him.

"Agent Booth? You need to come with us."

**BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb BbBbBb **

If I'd started this on Thursday – or Friday – you'd be getting part three by now.


	27. Not a Minute Too Soon

**Note: **And here we go with part 3.

**What if: **Booth had to keep Brennan's survival a secret?

**AU?** Yes

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By the time he reached the office, he was _furious_. His _partner_ had died, didn't that entitle him to one measly day off? But no, his boss showed up at his door, told him he had to go to work, and then refused to answer any questions at all.

It probably was good that Cam hadn't actually returned his weapon.

To add insult to injury, as soon as they'd reached the office, Cullen and Hacker had deposited Booth in an interrogation room and left, promising to be back shortly. Booth paced, trying to work out some of the fury that would probably get him fired.

Not that he was sure he even wanted to stay with the FBI without Bones, but it probably would be best to leave without being charged with attacking the assistant director..

Nine minutes after he was left alone, his cell phone rang. "What?", he snapped.

"Oh, Seeley", Rebecca answered. "I'm so sorry about Dr. Brennan."

He pulled out a chair, sat down. "What?"

"It was on the news", Rebecca explained. "It must have been horrible."

"Yeah", he answered, trying not to remember the expression on her face as she slumped to the floor. "It was."

"Is there anything I can do?", she asked, tears in her voice.

"No", he answered baldly. "There's nothing anyone can do."

"Seeley …" There was silence for a moment, then she continued. "We're going to have to tell Parker. Do you want me to do it, or would you prefer …." She trailed off, and he mentally ran through both scenarios before he answered.

"I'll tell him."

"Do you want me to bring him by tonight?"

"No", Booth answered, "I'll tell him this weekend. I need a little time."

"OK", Rebecca answered. "Call if you need anything, or if you want to see him sooner."

"I will", he replied. "Thanks, Rebecca."

He ended the call and resumed his pacing, wondering how he'd ever find the words to tell his son that Bones was dead.

By the time Cullen slipped through the door, Booth's grief was again masked by anger. He took a couple of steps towards his boss, who held up his hand in the universal "stop" gesture, sat down at the table, then pulled the phone towards him and dialed a long string of numbers.

Uneasily, Booth sat in a chair opposite Cullen, waiting impatiently as the phone rang – once, twice, three times. There was a click as the person on the other end picked up the phone, and then Booth heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again say, "Hello?"

He didn't even notice when Cullen slipped out of the room.

**BbB**

He understood national security. He knew how important it was, what the consequences were of letting _anyone _find out that Bones was alive.

The only thing he didn't understand was how he was supposed to get through the next couple of weeks. He'd have to spend time with their friends, watching them grieve, pretending he was as devastated as they were, while inside he was so happy he wanted to sing.

Cullen had a car take him home, and he spent the day cleaning – anything to use up some energy. By the time he fell into bed, his apartment was spotless and the burst of manic energy that was running through him had subsided, just a little.

His first challenge came the next day, when he returned to work. He stoically accepted the condolences of his fellow agents, and let Mary from HR fuss over him until he couldn't take any more, then he barricaded himself in his office, where he didn't have to notice the curious looks and the conversational lulls that happened every time he walked by. The only person brave enough to invade his sanctuary was Sweets, and if Booth's gruff, "I don't want to talk about it" didn't get him to leave, the follow-up "Don't think I won't shoot you, Sweets. Leave me _alone_" did.

Cam called a few times, but phone calls were easy to ignore, and somehow he made it through the day.

And the next day.

On day three, he walked by Cullen's office and heard Sweets, asking Cullen to make him go into therapy, heard Cullen say no, not yet. That was good - the last thing he wanted to do was therapy – Sweets was taking Bones's death hard, and he was still having trouble pretending to be as grief-stricken as he should be.

He spent the weekend with Parker, told him Bones had been badly hurt, accepted Parker's consoling hug.

The days marched on, and he continued to keep his distance, telling everyone he wasn't up to company.

And then on day seven, Angela knocked on his office door and promptly burst into tears. He awkwardly held her as she cried on his shoulder, feeling guilty that she didn't know Bones was alive, grateful that he did. When she pulled herself together, they went for lunch and he listened to her talk through her grief and pain. They talked for hours, but when she covered his hand with hers and said, "You know, I always thought you and Bren would end up together.", he couldn't take any more. He grunted, "Yeah", threw a couple of bills on the table, and rushed off, muttering about work.

On day 10, he came home to find Max napping on his couch.

It was just like Max to barge in, not letting a minor detail like a locked door stop him, but he was too anxious for news of Bones to be angry. "How is she?"

Max sat up. "Getting better. Sick of the hospital, making a pain of herself telling the nurses what to do, about what you'd expect."

Booth sank onto the couch in relief. "Good."

As always, Max's blue eyes saw more than they should. "She was worried about you."

Booth looked at him, and he continued. "When she first woke up. She thought you'd been hurt, that that was why you weren't there."

Booth nodded. "Yeah, she told me."

"Did she tell you that she blackmailed the FBI into letting her talk to you?"

Booth's eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "No, but it sounds like her."

Max laughed. "You know Tempe, she goes after what she wants." He stopped laughing and his expression turned serious. "The funeral is in two days."

"OK", Booth answered. "I'll be there."

They sat quietly for a moment, then Booth asked, "Did you tell the squints? They'll want to be there."

Max nodded. "Yeah."

"OK", Booth repeated.

Max stood, straightened his clothes. "She's lucky to be alive."

Booth stood as well, nodded. "I know."

Max's eyes met his one last time. "It kind of makes you want to stop wasting time, doesn't it?"

A moment later, the door clicked shut behind him.

**BbB**

The morning of the funeral was bright and sunny. Booth dressed in his best suit, strapped on his shoulder holster, and prepared for the ordeal ahead.

By the time he reached the cemetery, the squints were already there. As Cam beckoned him over, he noticed three FBI agents among the assembled mourners.

Max arrived last, his tired eyes and his ill-fitting suit making him look older than his years. He took the place of honor by the casket and the minister began the brief service. When it ended, Max placed a rose on the casket, and the rest of the mourners fell in line to do the same. As Booth placed his rose with the others, there was a scuffle behind him. He spun, pulling his weapon, and saw as the nearest FBI agent grappling with the man they were trying to catch. Booth moved around them, hoping for an opening, and watched in horror as the two men slammed into the casket, knocking it over and spilling the dummy inside onto the freshly cut lawn.

**BbB**

A few hours later – after the suspect was in custody, the squints were placated, and the reports were finished – Booth walked down the hospital corridor, looking for room 718. He knocked lightly on the door, then peered around the frame at the woman in the bed.

Brennan's face lit up. "Booth!"

He smiled back, walking in and handing her the bouquet of flowers he carried. "Hi Bones", he said. "I've missed you."

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And that's the end. Or the beginning, depending on your perspective.


End file.
